Her Dark Life
by NotasboredasIlook
Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.
1. Chapter 1

**Her Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Please be gentle.

Timeline: CSI: Miami Season 8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendevous'.

**Chapter 1**

_"She says 'Nobody wants to believe. You're the same as everyone. What makes me unique? My dark life.'"_ - Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

There was something comforting about a dark room. When she was a girl, she would sit alone in her room for hours, with all the lights off, long after the sun had set on the Louisiana landscape. She would think, dream, imagine. It was a time and place where she had peace; where the intoxicated ramblings of her parents and the loud obtrusiveness of her brothers were non-existent. It helped her put things in perspective, and she cherished being able to contemplate her life without distraction.

When they were in the academy, Jake would tease her about her love of the dark. He would smirk in that way he did and say: "Someone that looks like you should always be out in the light." She knew that in his own Jake-like way he was attempting to pay her a compliment, but it never felt like one. In fact, his words always had the opposite effect on her.

After that, she never told the people she let get close to her – who were few and far between – about it. Not Hagen, not Eric. It wasn't a shameful thing by any means, but in a strange way, she felt that – given her line of work – people would belittle or judge her for it.

She had had enough judgment in her life. And given the events of the last month – hell, the last year if she really thought about it – she felt she deserved some time for uninterrupted contemplation.

The only problem being that it was hard to steal time for yourself when you were a Level III crime scene investigator, let alone the assistant day shift supervisor. Because of that, Calleigh reasoned she might as well hole up in a quiet place at the office before the inevitable call to a scene came down.

Quiet time meant she could sort herself out. Pull herself together and get on with her life. Face whatever horrors the next day would throw at her.

Unfortunately, the only thing she had been able to come up with was that she had no idea what was wrong with her.

One thing she knew for certain was that "things" were not been good. Though she had originally chalked it up to Eric's shooting, hospitalization, resignation and the subsequent end of their relationship, she had begun to wonder more and more if this strange feeling of discontent went back to something even further. She had lain awake many nights, trying to pinpoint the source of her tension, only to realize that it had been a current underlying her emotions for a while. It had even been there when she was with Eric … she just hadn't realized it.

That was bugging the crap out of her.

She propped her feet up on the small leather couch and lay back, staring at the slits of light the window shades made on the ceiling of the office. She counted the orange and yellow lines in her mind, finding comfort in the simplicity of it. At that moment, she desperately needed things to be simple, because she was sick to death of "complicated."

Maybe, just maybe she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

Natalia had dealt with her ex-husband. Ryan had his gambling issue. Frank's wife threw him the mother of all curveballs by hiring someone to seduce him into cheating. Eric was still dealing with his shootings (she grimaced at the reality that the word was in plural).

Even Horatio had his moment.

She itched her nose. She had never asked what happened in Brazil. She didn't want to bring it up. Clearly it had affected both her boss and her best friend. But there was another part of her that was scared to know the truth. Afraid that it would change things …

She managed to hide behind that fear for more than a year. However, when the feds had taken Horatio away to face "justice" in Rio, well, in her heart, she knew she had known all along what he and Eric had done. She just hated that she had to face up to it.

What she hated more was that she found herself judging both of them for it. She knew it wasn't her place. She knew it wasn't her pain – she couldn't even begin to relate to how they suffered at Marisol's murder.

But she also knew the difference between right and wrong. Murder was wrong. There was always a choice. Horatio had been most admired teacher on that lesson. Knowing he had crossed that line hurt her. Even though she knew it was not her place to be "hurt."

She wasn't there. She didn't know specifically what happened. And she didn't want to know. It wasn't any of her business.

She knew damn well that nothing about Horatio's life was her business.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes, pissed at herself for once again going down this toxic path.

She considered going to the gym and taking her frustration out on a punching bag. She even thought about going out to the range. In the past, that had been her tension reliever of choice: Emptying nine or ten clips into however many paper targets she could get.

Today was different, though. She just couldn't muster up enough strength within her to give a damn anymore. About what, she didn't know. She just knew that it wasn't there. Even the idea of faking motivation seemed pointless.

She sighed, closed her eyes for a moment and once again relished the quiet of the room. Rationally, she knew she shouldn't be using her boss' office for "Calleigh time," but Horatio had taken the day off to visit his son, Kyle, and she really just needed a few minutes to herself. It was already late in the day, but a gang-related shooting just before lunch told her she was going to be putting in some overtime. After hours of staring into a microscope, she needed a break. Horatio had given her a key to his office long ago – strictly for emergency purposes.

"_I wonder if he would consider an attempt to avoid a mental breakdown an 'emergency,'"_ she thought, then cringed when she remembered all of grief he had dealt with in the last year concerning Kyle's mother.

She chewed on her bottom lip, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable in Horatio's domain. She sat up and ran her hands over her face, berating herself silently for being where she didn't belong. His trust was important to her and she didn't want to jeopardize that.

There was something about that thought that caused her to stop. Swallowing back the residual guilt, she forced herself to analyze what she was feeling. Propping her elbows on her knees, she put her hands together and leaned her face against them. For a split second, she felt almost … jaded. Narrowing her green eyes, she tried to refocus her mind, but it was to no avail. The ever-present anxiety of being alone in the dark of her boss' office without his knowledge was too overpowering.

"Shit," she muttered as she stood up, shaking her head. Thinking she had been foolish to try and seek solitude there in the first place, she turned on her heel and headed for the door. Just as she opened it, she remembered she had taken off her gun and placed it on the side table near the couch. With a groan, she went back to retrieve it.

"_You need to pull yourself together, girl," _she mentally scolded herself as she clipped her sidearm to her pants. _"If anyone knew you were this much of a mess …"_

Her thoughts were cut off as the lights came on around her. She froze, cursing the fates.

"Calleigh?"

Realizing she was busted, she slowly turned to meet Horatio's concerned, yet inquisitive gaze. He was an all-too-familiar stance – hands on his hips – staring at her expectantly. His bright red hair appeared to be wind-blown. He held his sunglasses in one hand and his keys in the other.

Calleigh wondered how to explain her presence in his office, but when no words came to mind, she gave him a slight smile and looked down, the flush of embarrassment heating her face and neck.

After she failed to respond, he took a step closer to her. "Is everything okay?" he asked, tilting his head down in an attempt to meet her eyes. He was more confused by her silence than he was by her presence.

She took a couple of steps back and raised her eyes up. "Everything's fine," she said with a half-smile. "I'm sorry about being in here. I, um, just needed a few minutes of quiet. I figured no one would think to look for me in here."

She knew it was a partial truth. Everything was NOT okay, but she gave herself credit for being honest with him about why she was in his private space.

Sensing her discomfort, he nodded and then walked past her to his desk. "No worries," he said, his blue eyes still reflecting his concern. Then he smiled. "Though I must warn you, I have very little luck hiding out here, people always seem to find me."

She frowned and looked away. "I wasn't hiding, exactly."

His eyes narrowed slightly and he leaned against his desk. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes.

He sighed. "You know you can talk to me if something is bothering you."

Calleigh almost laughed out loud. Almost. Instead, she responded with: "I'm fine."

Horatio knew she was lying, but he also knew that he couldn't force a confidence from his partner, so he merely crossed his arms across his chest and nodded. "Okay, then. Have a seat, you can fill me in on what I've missed today."

She could tell by his stance and tone of voice that he didn't believe her, but she didn't have the energy for this discussion, especially since she herself didn't know EXACTLY what her problem was. So she switched tactics.

"How is Kyle liking Dade-U?" she asked, sitting in the nearest chair.

Horatio smiled, still amazed at his son's progress over the last couple of years. The boy had had a very hard life and Horatio was determined to be there for him, to be the family they should have been all along.

"He's doing well. He's making friends, likes his classes," he grinned reflecting back on the afternoon they had spent together. "I had to cut my visit short. Apparently, he has a date tonight. Couldn't have his old man cramping his style."

Calleigh chuckled a bit at this. She liked Kyle. He was a good kid with a good heart. She was glad to see him finally on the right track and enjoying all the things an 18-year-old should be. She remembered that time in her own life when everything seemed positive and new.

She wondered when it was that she started to feel old.

"Well, next time you speak with him, tell him we miss him around here," she said with sincerity. "Hopefully he'll be able to intern with Dr. Lohman during his summer break."

"Mmmm, we'll see," Horatio said, before sitting down in the chair next to Calleigh. He leaned back and rubbed his face in exhaustion. "I … am starting to feel very old."

"Oh, I think you've still got a few more good years in you," she said bemused. "Though I'm sure the criminals of Miami would enjoy it immensely if you decided to retire."

"Retire? Kyle is talking about medical school. I'm never going to be able to retire," he joked, turning his head towards her. He could easily see through her deflection and he knew something had her distressed.

"Have you talked to Eric lately?" he asked softly. He knew they had been in the beginnings of a relationship when everything went to hell with the Russian mafia. When Eric left for Puerto Rico, Horatio had watched Calleigh become more and more distant and, with each passing day, he became more and more worried for her.

She stared ahead of her. "No I haven't," she replied flatly, wanting desperately not to have this conversation. "And I don't think I will be anytime soon."

"I'm sorry."

She smirked. "Don't be."

They sat in an uncomfortable pause for many moments before she sighed, still looking at some unknown point ahead of her.

"We're the last you know."

Horatio tilted his head. He did know what she was referring to, but before he could say anything, Calleigh continued.

"Megan, Eric, Alexx," she swallowed hard. "Tim. We're all that's left of the original team. So much has changed."

"That it has," he said with a nod, trying to understand where she was leading him. But the trip would be short-lived as she rose from her chair and looked down at the floor.

"I need to get back in the lab," she said softly, still not looking at him. "I'm sorry for invading your office."

He gave a small smile and stood as well. "Don't be. I understand the need for quiet."

For reasons she wouldn't be able to comprehend later, her eyes shot up from the floor to meet his own and she blurted out: "I'll bet you do."

When Horatio's eyebrows rose high on his forehead, the reality of what she said smacked her in the face like an open hand. Before he could speak, she put up her hands and shook her head.

"Please, forget I said that," she said, lowering her head and walking quickly out of the room. Horatio walked to the open door and watched as his friend practically flew down the stairs away from his office with her hands tightly clenched at her sides.

"_What was THAT all about?"_ he wondered as he turned and shut the door to his office, vowing to check on her later.

* * *

**So ... what do you think? Should I keep going? (I heart reviews of all forms)**


	2. Chapter 2

**My Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.

Timeline: CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter 1. Reviews keep me motivated (hint hint).

**Chapter 2**

"_And you think you're a guest. You're a tourist at best. Peering into the corners of my dark life."_ – Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

She shouldn't have said that.

She shouldn't have been there to begin with.

She shouldn't have run from her problem.

And she definitely shouldn't drown her sorrows and regrets in the bottle.

Calleigh never truly examined the temptation of alcohol. Watching her parents self-destruct under its power had always been a powerful motivator in its own toward moderation. But now as she sat at the bar, staring at the half-empty glass of scotch, she began to understand the intoxicating allure.

The bar was average. Nice atmosphere. Clean glasses. Decent music. And the best part was that no one there knew she what she had said to Horatio.

The bar was a place she was familiar with, but she had never actually had a drink there before. She had only ever been there to pick up her father from whatever number bender he had been on. That alone should have made her want to steer clear of it. She didn't know why she decided to go there. She just went in, sat down and started ordering.

She felt so cold inside. Each sip of the bitter beverage spread warmth in her mouth and down her throat. It was easy to keep lifting the glass to her lips. The alcohol numbed her, seduced her … made her forget. Tonight that was all she wanted to do: Forget.

But after three drinks, she made the conscious decision to stop. She wasn't her father. She knew her limits. Tomorrow meant work. She owed it to the team and to the citizens of Miami to be on her "A-game." That was her duty.

Still …

She wondered if it was so bad that – this once – she wanted to be selfish? She wanted to free herself from the grasp of this unknown stronghold her mind had her in. She wanted – no needed – to shut outs her thought for a while. She had to escape.

With one swift sweep of her hand, she quickly downed the remainder of the glass and set it back down on the bar, grimacing as the liquid fire burned its way to her stomach. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Leaning on the shiny mahogany, she opened her eyes again and signaled the bartender. She knew him well enough: His was the voice on the other end of the call asking her to come retrieve "Duke."

His name was Carl. She eyed his broad shoulders and attractive features slowly. Blonde hair. Hazel eyes. And he clearly spent time at the gym. She wondered if he was one of those guys who came to Miami to be a model or actor and ended up wasting away inside a bar or club. If he weren't so well acquainted with the darker side of her life already, she would almost be tempted to …

She lifted her empty glass and shook it slightly, giving him a sly smile. "How 'bout another?" she asked, feeling the alcohol take effect a little more.

Carl picked up the bottle, but paused before refilling the empty glass.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "You think you can handle another one?"

Calleigh set the glass down with a "SMACK". Though she hadn't intended to do it so hard, she reasoned that there was no taking it back now.

"_Like so many other things in my life,"_ she thought, her mind hazy with the onset of intoxication.

She leaned in towards him. "I can handle anything you throw at me," she said in defiance, though she knew her statement hadn't really been aimed at Carl, but at that unknown inner-entity eating away at her stability.

The handsome man shrugged and filled her glass again. He watched with a small degree of worry as she swirled the drink around. He didn't know her well enough to interfere, but he knew her father, and he wondered if this type of behavior was a family trait.

Calleigh saw the bartender examining her. "Here's to me," she said with a sad smile as she lifted the glass and took a large swallow of the amber fluid.

Carl placed both hands on the bar and leaned toward her. She knew he was concerned, but she was beyond caring. She didn't owe this man anything anyway. Tonight, she didn't owe anyone anything.

"Maybe I'm outta line here, but is everything okay?"

Maybe it was the scotch. Maybe it was her mind. But for whatever reason, when Carl kindly inquired of her, Calleigh started laughing. Hard. Hysterically. Bracing herself against the bar, she shook her head from side to side.

"Oh my Lord. Am I okay?" she threw out between loud giggles. "No. No way, Carl. Not even close!"

* * *

He hadn't realized how late it actually was.

Pushing the button in the elevator, Horatio leaned against the wall. He had gotten so caught up in case files that by the time he went to the ballistics lab to check on Calleigh, she had already been gone for a couple of hours.

Clearly something was bothering her. They may have drifted apart lately, but after roughly 10 years together, he wasn't ignorant of Calleigh's mannerisms or moods. As much as he hated to admit it, however, he was having a difficult time getting a grasp on what was going on in her life that would cause her to act so strangely. He knew that Eric's leaving had upset her, but this seemed beyond the norm of someone with a broken heart.

"_Then again,"_ he thought, _"how do you measure someone else's pain?"_

He sighed. Perhaps he was too used to her being the strong, steadfast one. She was the one who had held everyone else up when they fell. And she never backed down in the face of adversity. Ever.

The truth was it took a lot to rattle Calleigh Duquesne. A hell of a lot.

Today's meeting in his office told him something very much had her rattled. And that worried him.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped out into the lobby. He considered calling her, just to check on things, but shook his head when he remembered the time. She would no doubt be asleep and he reasoned that she definitely needed some rest.

Whatever it was, he would talk to her about it tomorrow.

He pushed open the main doors and stepped out into the night. The stars twinkled in the cloudless sky above and he inhaled deep of the early morning air. That was the thing he loved about Miami: No matter the time of day, the city's warmth brought it to life. It was so unlike the cold of New York. Miami was a vibrant, sparkling entity all on its own. It was easy to love it.

_"Kind of like **her** …"_

An emotion that had been buried deep within him stirred, catching him off guard. It had been a long time since he had allowed his thoughts to venture in that direction, for going down that road was dangerous and painful. He needed to focus on the here and now, not the past.

Still, there were some good memories down that path. He smiled slightly as he opened the door to his Hummer and smoothly slid into the front seat. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he rolled the windows down, then reached for his phone. He rolled it around in his hand, again debating on making the call. After several minutes, he decided against it and put the phone back in the inner breast pocket of his jacket.

Despite the warm night air and his earlier content, something caused a chill within him. Perhaps he was being paranoid. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he couldn't shake this sudden feeling that something was very wrong in his world.

Fate apparently decided to clue him in as he was stopped at a red light. The loud chirp of the phone broke through the relative silence inside the vehicle.

"_Jesus, it's almost two in the morning,"_ he thought. Startled, he quickly fished it out of his coat and read the caller's name on the digital display: **CALLEIGH.**

Frowning, he pushed the "talk" button. "Horatio."

There was a short pause on the other end. "Um … is this a friend of Calleigh's?"

He didn't recognize the voice and that made him more anxious. Horatio hadn't expected to get a call at this hour, let alone from a strange man using Calleigh's phone. Blaring alarm bells went off in his head and he pulled the Hummer to the side of the road and put in park.

"This is Horatio Caine, who am I speaking to?" he responded tightly.

There was noise in the background, a mixture of jazz and people talking. Though above it, he could still hear Calleigh's voice:

"Carl! You little thief! Give me back my phone or you are in soooo much trouble!"

Horatio's eyes narrowed when the caller didn't respond. "Hello? What's going on there?" he demanded.

The caller cleared his throat before he started speaking again. "I'm here. Sorry. My name is Carl and I'm the bartender at Bleu's on 11th near Bicentennial Park. I'm sorry to call so late, but I hit the first number on Calleigh's speed dial."

Horatio exhaled, wanting this guy to get to the point – that being the state of Calleigh's well being. "Is she okay?"

There was more noise in the background and muffled voices before "Carl" responded again. "Yeah … well more or less. She's been here for a while. She's in no shape to drive and she won't let me call her a cab. I'm not supposed to, but I took her car keys. I don't want her to get behind the wheel. I'd take her home myself but my shift doesn't end for another couple of hours."

He paused again, lowering his voice. "There are some guys with her, and I didn't see anything, but I think one of them may have slipped her something."

Horatio nodded, already putting the Hummer into gear and pulling away. "I'm on my way," he growled. "Don't let her leave until I get there."

"Wait. How am I supposed to do that?" Carl asked nervously.

"Think of something. I'll be there soon."

With that, he hung up the phone and abruptly merged into traffic, both confused by his partner's behavior and anxious to get to her as quickly as possible. He was still in the downtown area and he had a general idea where the bar was. He could be there in a matter of minutes if the traffic lights were on his side.

Six minutes, 22 seconds and several (thankfully) uncaught traffic violations later, Horatio stepped through the door of Bleu's. The bar was more than half-full and he scanned the crowd with his eyes before coming to rest on a familiar blonde head at the bar. Focused on his target, he made his way through groups of people toward Calleigh. He expected that she was drunk, but he hadn't expected that she would be … popular.

"Dude, I told you she's coming with ME!"

"Not a chance, man. This one is all mine."

Two men were flanked on both sides of the heavily intoxicated CSI. She was laughing loudly, her head thrown back and a hand over her stomach. Nearby, a smaller group of men were watching the situation unfold with amusement and great interest. Like vultures ready to swoop in.

"Oh, you boys are just too much. Fightin' over little 'ol me!" Calleigh's southern drawl was heavily slurred as she laughed.

Horatio felt a mixture of relief and anger: Relief that she appeared to be unharmed and anger that she had put herself in a vulnerable, potentially dangerous situation. He looked down and exhaled loudly before approaching the men who were tossing profanities back and forth. They looked like smarmy tourists with gaudy Hawaiian shirts and greasy hair. One of the men was a good three inches taller than the other, who was wearing a wedding ring. Both were obviously drunk and both were obviously up to no good.

"Fuck you, I saw her first!" yelled the one with the ring.

Horatio ground his teeth as he stepped up to the men. They paused from their verbal attacks and took in the new addition to the party. Their eyes were bloodshot and they both looked unhappy at Horatio's intrusion.

He cleared his throat and stared at them coldly. "Actually, gentlemen, the lady will be coming with ME," he said matter-of-factly in a tone that dared the two men and any others within hearing distance to challenge him.

Calleigh stopped laughing and lowered her head, her glazed green eyes meeting her boss' angry blues. She groaned then turned her head to the side. Carl was nearby, trying to keep an eye on her while taking care of his customers at the same time. The bartender recognized Horatio's voice from the phone and nodded silently to him, a gesture Horatio returned.

Despite her drunken state, Calleigh caught the non-verbal interaction. "Aw Carl, you called Horatio?" she said, pointing unsteadily at the bartender. "You. Are. A. Funhater!"

At that, Calleigh's new friends unwisely decided they weren't going to allow their conquest get taken away so easily. They stepped towards Horatio in an attempt to intimidate him. He smirked. Not only were the men drunk, but they were stupid to boot.

He lifted his chin. "Gentlemen, it would be in your best interests to leave. Now."

The taller man started laughing, his breath reeking of beer. "Or what? What are you gonna to do 'bout it, Red? How 'bout I take you down? Then when I'm done with you, I'll take the blonde _down_."

Horatio put his hands on his hips and tilted his head toward the loudmouth. He wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of this punk, but he wouldn't … unless he had to.

"I don't think you want to try that," he replied through a clenched jaw, his eyes daring the man to try.

Before the man could speak, his married friend intervened and pulled him away from the pissed off redhead.

"Dude, he's a cop," he said, staring at the gold shield clipped to Horatio's belt.

However, it appeared the tall man didn't have his friend's good sense and tried to shrug him off.

"So? Who the fuck cares?" he said, glaring at his shorter companion. "He's gotta bad attitude and I think I'm gonna teach him a lesson."

Horatio grinned, hoping this guy would try and take a swing at him. Calleigh, however, was not amused.

"Oh come on guys," she drunkenly whined. "This is boring. Quit with the 'Macho Man' thing. It's spoilin' my fun."

The married man ignored her protests and kept arguing with his friend. Clearly, he had no intention of taking on Horatio, which the lieutenant mused was probably the smartest thing the man had done that night.

"I'm not going to jail over some dumb broad," married man loudly persisted. "Look, he's got a friggin' gun! He's a cop, with a GUN. I ain't messin' with this. Melanie will kill me! And Brenda will do worse to you! Let's go!"

Horatio kept his eyes on the taller man, who only sneered in response. But after a minute of internal debate, he let his friend pull him away. "Fine. Whatever man," he spat as he left, throwing his hands up in defeat.

Horatio watched as the two left the bar, then turned to give the onlookers a menacing glare. The crowd near Calleigh quickly dispersed. She, in turn, looked at him passively.

"Why are YOU here?" she asked as she picked up her glass from the bar. But before she could raise it to her mouth, Horatio moved in and put his hand on top of it.

"I think you've had enough tonight, Calleigh," he said sternly, removing the glass from her hand and placing it on the bar. She rolled her eyes at him.

"You are not my father," she slurred as she leaned back on the barstool, propping her elbows on the bar. "And I'm off-duty, so you are not the boss of me right now."

Horatio nodded slightly and looked away. "Be that as it may," he responded, "I AM your friend and I am going to make sure you get home safely. So let's go."

Calleigh stared at him through unfocused eyes. She wanted to tell him off, to tell him that she didn't need his friendship, that she could take care of herself. But at that moment, she couldn't find the words. So she sighed in exasperation, grabbed her purse and hopped off the barstool.

"Fine. Let's go, _pal_."

Horatio nodded, then took out his wallet and slapped a $100 on the bar, motioning to Carl. "Is this enough to cover her tab?"

Carl handed him Calleigh's car keys and took the bill. "Yeah. Hold on, I'll get your change."

But Horatio was already turning away. "Keep it," he said over his shoulder as he helped Calleigh through the crowd to the door. "Consider it a tip for doing the right thing."

Carl put the money in the register and watched the two leave. Calleigh stumbled and he saw Horatio put his arm around her waist and balance her against him. At first she seemed to resist his help, but then she relaxed into him, allowing him to lead her.

Carl picked up his bar towel and shook his head as they exited the building. "Good luck man," he said softly, knowing Horatio couldn't hear him. "You're gonna need it."

* * *

**A/N: Someone is going to get an earful in Chapter 3.**


	3. Chapter 3

**My Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.

Timeline: Refers to much of CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.

**Chapter 3**

"_She stays where she is, 'cause of voyeurs like this, with an accusative look that says 'My dark life,'"_ – Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

He stood watching. Waiting.

The square digital clock on the nearby well read: 6:54 A.M. He had been standing at the window since it had read 6:00 A.M.

The blinds were open. He watched the night crew wrap up their shift. CSI's Jordan, Tanner and Bailey stood in the hallway below, each casting an occasional glance up at him. Perhaps they found his behavior strange, but he didn't pay much heed to it. He was focused on something much more important than other people's perceptions of him.

Horatio saw the elevator light go on and his breath caught in his throat. Mere seconds seem to span into hours as the doors slowly opened. But when Natalia exited alone and greeted the night shift members with a warm smile, he exhaled with irritation.

In reality, he knew he shouldn't do what he was planning to do. He hadn't had any sleep in the last 48 hours and he was very tired. That kind of exhaustion caused people to make mistakes based on unpredictable emotions. He couldn't afford that. Not in this case.

This situation needed to be handled with a certain degree of delicacy. And yet, part of him was still so … so …

He kept replaying the whole incident from the other night in his mind:

* * *

_Calleigh rested her head back against the seat of the Hummer and watched with disinterested eyes as he put the keys in the ignition._

"_What about my car?" she mumbled, the scotch on her breath filling the air between them. He rolled down his window and took a deep breath of fresh air, hoping that it would make her feel a little better as well._

"_Well," he said slowly. "Once I get you home, I can call a cab, come back and get it."_

_She murmured something unintelligible and turned her head the other way. He waited for a beat to see if she would say something else. When she didn't, he started up the Hummer and headed for her apartment._

_The drive had been silent. He cast concerned glances in her direction every few minutes, only to find her leaning her head against the window, staring out at the passing city. He wanted to talk to her about what she was going through, but he felt it would be dishonest to delve into his friend's personal matters when she wasn't in complete control of her faculties. Eventually, she fell asleep._

"_She's going to feel like hell later," he thought, noting that she wouldn't be in any shape to work. It would be close to 3 a.m. by the time he got her home and settled. Their shifts typically began at 7 a.m. Even if she woke up to go to the office, she would still no doubt have a questionable blood-alcohol content. He would put her down for sick time._

_She groaned slightly and moved her head, causing a lock of her hair to fall down over her face. He paused, wondering what she was going through that would cause her to act so recklessly. Initially, he had been angry with her – though he knew he shouldn't have been. She was right after all: He wasn't her father and she had been off-duty. Still …the thought of those two meatheads taking advantage of her inebriated state made his blood boil._

_The traffic light ahead of him turned yellow and he slowed to a stop as it switched to red. Again, he turned to check on her. She was still asleep and her hair was still in her face. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the frown-line crease in her forehead. He remembered a time when she still seemed so carefree and vivacious and he found himself wondering what had happened along the way to change that. His previous anger softened at her quiet state._

_She seemed so small … and so alone._

_Feeling a strange need to connect with her, he reached over and gently pushed the lock of fallen hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on the softness of her skin for just a minute. He smiled sadly as she exhaled, but didn't wake._

_The light turned green and his hand returned to the steering wheel as he pressed down on the accelerator again._

_She was still out when he pulled up to her apartment building. Pulling out her keys, he carefully extracted her from the front seat of the Hummer and carried her up the stairs and into the empty lobby. _

_It was then that it occurred to him he didn't know her apartment number. After 10 years, he knew where her building was, but he had never been inside her home. He could check her wallet, but he really didn't want to set her on the cold and dirty floor. Still holding her against his chest, he looked around to see if he could locate the building's mailboxes. Luck was on his side as he rounded the corner to the elevators and saw a wall of small slotted doors, each with a name attached to them._

_His eyes scanned row after row before he hit pay dirt: __**Duquense Apt. 21**_

_"Who says you don't learn something new everyday?" he thought with amusement as he shifted her body against his._

_Then he realized his luck had run out. The building was a high rise and he had no idea what floor she lived on. He was anxious to get her to her home, not only because his arms was starting to tire, but he also wanted to avoid attracting unnecessary attention to his friend's physical state._

_Deciding he could figure it out if he saw how the first floor was set up, he finagled his hold on Calleigh enough to push the "UP" button in between the elevators. As he waited, he once again looked down at the sleeping blonde in his arms._

"_This would have been a lot easier if you were awake, Cal," he thought. The "ding" of the elevator caught his attention and he quickly boarded the small compartment._

_It didn't take him long to figure out there were four units on each floor and he soon found himself on the seventh level, trying to get Calleigh's key into the door without dropping her. When he finally heard the lock "click," he entered, using his foot to shut the door behind him._

_Finding his way around her apartment was considerably easier than the building had been. The main hallway led back to her bedroom and he quickly carried her there, setting her softly on her bed. He took in her furnishings, noting a balanced mixture of dark furniture with light décor. _

"_A beautiful combination of dark and light," he considered. "Much like the resident herself."_

_He stretched his tired arms and back as he sought out her bathroom in search for some aspirin, which he quickly discovered in her medicine chest. He then went back down the hallway to the kitchen, found a clean glass and filled it with water. Walking back into her bedroom, he noticed she had turned onto her side and had tucked her hands under her cheek. She seemed to be sleeping quite peacefully. He sat the aspirin bottle and the water on the nightstand and sighed, lingering for a moment over his friend._

_He remembered his promise to retrieve her car. Softly exiting her bedroom, he pulled out his phone and called a cab company._

_An hour later, he re-emerged into her apartment, her car now safely parked in a spot in front of the building. Though he was exhausted and wanted to get some shut-eye before he had to return to the office, he knew that was not to be. _

_He yawned as he took out a pen and paper and started writing a note:_

_**Calleigh,**_

_**Your car is parked out in front of the building. **_

_**You are taking a sick day today, so just rest up.**_

_He paused for a moment, his eyes glancing up to her bedroom. He continued writing._

_**I don't pretend to know what it is you are going through, **_

_**but I want to help, if you'll let me.**_

_**In any case, call me once you are awake and able **_

_**so I'll know that you are okay or if you need anything.**_

_**-H-**_

_Content that he was getting his point across in a way that would not put Calleigh on the spot, he walked down to hall to her bedroom and put the folded note and her keys on her nightstand, propping the note against the glass of water. He noticed that she hadn't moved from the position he last saw her in._

_For reasons he was entirely unsure about, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss the top of her head. Whatever pain she was in, he hoped he could do something to help her through it._

_When he pulled back, he realized he was being watched. Calleigh's green eyes were only half-open, but she was staring at him, following his movements as best as her still intoxicated state would allow her._

_He smiled awkwardly as he stood up straight. "Hey," he said softly. "Go back to sleep. I was just on my way out."_

_Her face was unreadable and Horatio assumed his presence was keeping her from returning to her slumber, so he turned and started to walk out._

"_Horatio?" Calleigh's voice was soft and tired, but he still heard it. He stopped and turned around._

"_Yeah?"_

"_We have something in common."_

_He tilted his head to the side, confused by her statement. The truth was, they had many things in common, but he was unsure where she was going with this, so he allowed her to lead him. _

"_What's that, Cal?"_

_She sighed. "We've both been ditched by a Delko."_

_As he stood there in total shock at her words, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep._

* * *

She hadn't come to work as he had instructed in his note, but she did not call. By that token, he hadn't called her either.

He knew she had been drunk - possibly drugged for that matter - and that she had not intentionally wanted to hurt him with her words, but he was still angry. Evidently, it was apparent too. The rest of his team must have sensed his disposition as they avoided him for most of the previous day. Even Frank had stayed at a safe distance.

As he stood watching out the windows of his office, he rationalized that today wasn't looking too promising either.

His eyes flicked back to the clock: 7:01 A.M.

Feeling tired, angry and restless, he took his suit jacket off and hung it on the back of his chair and rolled up the sleeves of his black and gray striped shirt. Try as he might, he couldn't shake Calleigh's words from his mind: _"We've both been ditched by a Delko."_

The statement had slammed into him like a car. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the headrest of his chair, shaking with fury. Marisol hadn't "ditched" him: Marisol had been taken from him. She had died a wrongful, painful death. For Calleigh - or anyone else for that matter - to make light of that filled him with an almost blinding rage.

The soft knock on the door broke him from his thoughts. Releasing the back of the chair, he stretched his fingers out, closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. He needed to get control of himself. The team needed him to be focused. The people of Miami needed him to do his job with a clear head.

There was no reason to take this out on any of them.

Once his blood pressure returned to some modicum of normality, he looked up at the door, expecting Natalia or Dr. Lohman.

"Come in," he said loudly.

At first, nothing happened and Horatio began to wonder if he had imagined hearing the knock. He had just walked around his desk when the doorknob turned and the door moved.

* * *

Time seemed to stop. Calleigh could hear her own heartbeat thrumming in her ears as she slowly stepped into Horatio's office. She had spent the last 24 hours trying to figure out what to say to him. How best to apologize for her behavior.

The problem was, she was unsure what exactly had happened.

She remembered the incident in his office two days ago. She remembered going to the bar and drinking what felt like her body weight in scotch. And she remembered Horatio showing up to get her.

After that, everything was very hazy. She had woken up around 1 p.m. yesterday afternoon with the mother of all hangovers and a note next to her bed:

**Calleigh,**

**Your car is parked out in front of the building. **

**You are taking a sick day today, so just rest up.**

**I don't pretend to know what it is you are going through, **

**but I want to help, if you'll let me.**

**In any case, call me once you are awake and able **

**so I'll know that you are okay or if you need anything.**

**-H-**

She cried in shame for a good hour after she read it.

Two days ago, she had been wallowing in self-pity and attacking Horatio in her mind. She also knew she hadn't been overtly nice to him at the bar. Yet he still took care of her. He had gotten her home safely, retrieved her car, and put out medicine to help her when she woke.

But despite his assistance, kind words and her shame, she still couldn't bring herself to reach out to him. She used to admire him. On some levels she still did, but life – she thought – had a funny way of changing one's perspective.

She had remembered Hagen's words from so long ago: _"That's a hell of a lonely road he's walking."_

At the time, she had been proud to say she was walking that road with him. But as she sat in her bed yesterday, clutching the aspirin bottle, she realized that somewhere along the way their roads had divided, and that she was alone.

Calleigh knew he had wanted her to call when she woke, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had no idea what she could possibly say that wouldn't sound contrite.

She hated feeling like a coward and decided she would talk to him face-to-face at work the next day.

But the minute she stepped in his office, she watched his stoic demeanor change from business to pure, unadulterated anger. His blue eyes flashed and he clenched his jaw tightly. The air in his office suddenly filled with tension. She took a step back and for a split second, she considered closing the door and running in the other direction.

He looked down, exhaling a deep breath as he stalked back behind his desk. His behavior confused her.

"_Is he angry with me?"_ she wondered, trying to find a reason that he would write such a compassionate message to her and then, 24 hours later, look like he wanted to rip her throat out.

She blew out a breath as she shut the door to his office behind her. _"Get a grip and get on with it, Calleigh."_

She moved slowly closer to his desk. He looked up and followed her movements with an intensity she was not unfamiliar with, but was not used to being on the receiving end on. She cleared her throat, but didn't break eye contact with him.

"Horatio, I'm … um … sorry you had to deal with … me … the other night," she started slowly, trying to sound more sincere than she felt. "I'm … I know I should have called yesterday, but I, uh, didn't know what to say. Truthfully, I still don't."

He didn't respond. In fact he stood unmoving, saying nothing for what seemed like an eternity. She shifted nervously, wishing he would say something or at least, sit down.

"_Why is he so angry?"_ she thought, quickly becoming frustrated with this situation. She tried a different track:

"I appreciate your help, I do … I just,"

She stopped talking as he quickly turned around and faced away from her. He hung his head low and seemed to be trying to collect himself. Clearly, something was very wrong. Eyes wide, Calleigh wondered if she shouldn't just get the hell out of there. But he finally spoke, stopping her from her "fight or flight" decision:

"Am I to expect this type of behavior from you on a regular basis, detective?"

His voice was cold and hard. And in the 10 years she had worked for him, he had never referred to her by her title. She swallowed hard, feeling the chasm that was already between them widen and deepen.

"I'm sorry Carl bothered you," she said softly. "It won't happen again."

He clenched his hands at his sides.

"Please clarify that for me," he growled, still not looking at her. "Are you saying that you won't do something so stupid and reckless again, or that you will, but I won't be the one called to bail you out when you are too wasted to take care of yourself? Because I prefer the first option to the latter."

Then he turned and looked at her. As an officer of the law, she had been on the receiving end of some of the harshest looks a person could receive. But the cold stare Horatio was focusing on her now, made all of those other experiences seem like warm and fuzzy hugs.

And that really, really pissed her off.

_"What the hell?_ _He's this upset because I got drunk one time?"_ she thought, feeling her hackles rise. She smirked and shook her head.

"Don't worry about me, _lieutenant,_ I won't disappoint you again," she sneered. "Especially since I know what high esteem you regard me in."

He moved faster than she had expected. Slamming both his hands down on his desk, his face burned a deep shade of crimson that contrasted sharply with his red hair.

"How I regard my partner is affected by how she regards herself!" he yelled. Outside, other staff stopped in the hall and looked up the source of the commotion. Consciously, he knew his employees could hear, but he had been pushed beyond the point of logic and reason.

"If you don't give enough of a damn about …"

"I AM NOT YOUR PARTNER!!" The smoldering volcano in her mind finally erupted with an earth-shattering force. Furious, Calleigh threw her arms up then ran her hands over her own angry face as tears started to stream from her eyes. "I was NEVER your partner! So don't stand there and throw a responsibility in my face that was never mine! It was Megan's! Maybe it was even Yelena's! But for the last four years it was Eric's responsibility, so don't insult my intelligence by trying to make me believe that I was ever important enough to you to fill that role because we both know that THAT IS NOT TRUE!!"

Stunned, Horatio watched as Calleigh spun on her heel and fled his office, slamming the door with almost enough force to shatter glass.

* * *

**So ... what do ya think? Where will the dynamic duo go from here? I'd love some feedback about this chapter. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**My Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.

Timeline: Refers to much of CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.

**Chapter 4**

"_And the strong concealed arms, set off bells and alarms, in the strangest of locations of my dark life."_ – Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

**Four months later**

"THIS is why I don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day."

Ryan Wolfe stood over the sprawled body of a man lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the bar. Wolfe rolled his eyes and looked around as his co-workers made their way through the scene, collecting evidence, talking to witnesses … all in a day's work.

The scene was chaos. What was once an old-fashioned Irish bar decorated for the annual drinking holiday was now a war zone. Broken furniture, liquor bottles and glasses lay scattered on the floor. The air stank of stale beer, gun smoke and death.

He watched as a beautiful, caramel-skinned woman with wavy brunette hair made her way around two demolished tables, the chairs laying in splintered pieces nearby. Natalia Boa Vista stopped and took photographs every few steps, documenting the numerous bullet shell casings scattered all over the ground. She looked up and half-smiled at Ryan.

"This looks more like the St. Valentine's Day Massacre," she quipped as she took more pictures. "There have to be at least a hundred casings in this room alone."

Ryan walked over to the bar and looked down at the second of three more bodies that were waiting for initial examination and identification by Dr. Lohman. This particular victim must have been roughly 6-feet, 8-inches tall and was covered in his own blood. But what stood out more to the CSI, was that the man was dressed like a leprechaun.

"Do you have any idea how scarring it is to see a grown man dressed up like the Lucky Charms guy? Especially when he is riddled with bullet holes?" he asked as placed numbered markers in various spots around the body. "I may never be able to eat cereal again."

Natalia walked up next to him. "Guess this wasn't his lucky day."

Ryan gave her a withering look. "How many times have I heard THAT already?"

As she started taking more photographs, a tall, bald man in a light gray suit approached, carefully stepping over evidence markers, shell casings and broken glass. Wolfe almost laughed; the big Texan looked like a linebacker attempting to do ballet. Frank saw Ryan's face and shot him a menacing glare, though it was in vain as the CSI's smirk only broadened.

"Careful there, Mr. Astaire," Ryan said as he stood up.

"Shut it, Wolfe. Horatio wants you to grab Walter and help Dr. Tom in the back room."

Ryan nodded and picked up his kit. Frank looked down at the tall, dead leprechaun on the floor.

"So much for the luck of the Irish, huh?"

"Already heard that one too," Ryan said as he headed for the back of the bar, leaving Natalia chuckling.

Frank took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Calleigh is gonna have her work cut out for her today. This place looks like Swiss cheese."

Natalia nodded. "I'm surprised she's not here yet," she said thoughtfully. "Lately, she has always been first on the scene. She's even beaten H to the punch a couple of times."

"Those two still at odds?"

"It's hard to say," Natalia shrugged before taking more pictures. "I know they talk business, but it appears to be pretty strained."

"That's a damn shame."

"Tell me about it."

"What do you think really happened?"

Natalia looked at Frank, then back into the camera's eyepiece. "I have no idea. But for those two …" she paused. "I … I don't know, but it must have been bad."

Work had been awkward after the incident in Horatio's office four months earlier. No one knew for sure what had caused the "Great DuCaine Showdown" - as it had been dubbed by those who had been present to witness it. Rumor had it even IAB had gotten involved, though it was never confirmed.

For crime scene investigators trained to get see the story when no one was talking, they were all baffled by the change in their boss' and his second's relationship. When they talked, it was usually brief, in curt and clipped tones. There were no smiles, no jokes, no witty repartee; they were cold and formal with each other. Anyone within 20 feet of the two could feel the angry tension between them.

All in all, Natalia reflected, it was making for some interesting work assignments and speculative water cooler talk. Some people thought Horatio blamed Calleigh for Delko leaving. Others thought it was vice versa. But the bottom line was that no one had the first clue what was going on between them.

Natalia's warm brown eyes went to the door as it opened. She watched Calleigh step into the bar, stop and take in the anarchy before her. When Calleigh saw her co-workers, she quickly approached them, snapping on latex gloves as she walked.

"I see 9 mils, 45s, some other smaller calibers. We're going to be here a while," she said in a no-nonsense tone as she looked at the two bodies on the floor. "What do we know?"

Frank bit back a smirk. She had asked the exact same question Horatio had asked him in almost the exact same tone.

"Bar fight on 'roids, Cal."

She was clearly not amused as she set her kit down on the bar and snapped it open, almost smacking Frank's arm in the process. He took the hint and got serious.

"A lot of people were in here drinkin' today, Calleigh," he said in a tired voice as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "It appears that a couple of drunks – who both happened to be armed – got into a fight. Then their friends joined in. Then their friends' friends joined in. And so on. Turns out, quite a few of those 'friends' were packin' heat. Once the shots started, it turned into high noon at the O.K. Corral in here. Chaos reigned and left five people dead and about 13 more injured."

She scanned the room with her eyes. "Chaos is putting it mildly, Frank."

She took mental note of her surroundings, cataloging her observations in her quick mind, storing bits of information away for record purposes later. The media was in force outside so several patrol officers stood in front of windows and the door, blocking the cameras from any possible view inside. The bar was two stories and she could see Jesse and Horatio standing near the wooden railing on the second floor. Their expressions were intense and they were in deep conversation when Horatio turned and looked below.

For a brief moment, his eyes locked with hers, but just as quickly the wall she had built defensively within her went up and she looked away.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, part of her missed him. She missed his caring and compassion. She missed his good heart. But the other part, the one connected to her southern girl temper, reminded her about the overwhelming feeling of humiliation she felt that day … the day when the small remainder of their friendship had fallen totally apart.

Occasionally, she would nearly cave into cursed sentimentality. She would come up with something to say to him. She would build up her resolve to try and repair the damage that had been done. She would get halfway to his office, then veer off in the direction of avoidance.

She couldn't escape the memory of the anger in his voice and the resentment in his eyes. To this day, she still couldn't wrap her mind around what it was that could have invoked such wrath in the normally calm and collected Horatio Caine.

Yes, getting drunk by herself hadn't been her finest hour. She had needed some release, but went looking for it in a bottle – clearly not her smartest choice.

"_Not like some other people,"_ she thought bitterly.

She had been over it and over it in her mind: She remembered him helping her at Bleu's; she remembered getting into the Hummer. The time between that and the moment she woke up to find aspirin, her car keys and a caring note next to her bed was a complete blank.

She asked herself repeatedly what could have happened to make Horatio so angry with her, but each time, she could not come up with a reasonable answer that seemed to justify his behavior.

Because of that, she absolutely, positively did not regret telling him off.

Mostly. But she still wasn't going to apologize for it.

Since then, their working relationship was strained but sufficient. She had considered requesting a transfer, but when IAB started poking around, she decided against it, hoping whatever attention was focused on her and her boss would die down.

She wasn't content with the way things were, but she wasn't willing to make a change – yet. If he wanted to talk, he was going to have to come to her.

"Did you hear me? Cal?"

She realized that her thoughts again had gotten the better of her as she finally noticed Natalia and Frank looking at her quizzically. She hadn't even heard Natalia say something to her. She shook her head apologetically.

"Sorry, I was focused on something else," she said quickly. "What were you saying?"

It didn't escape her notice that Natalia and Frank gave each other a knowing look before Frank excused himself to talk to one of Tom's people. Calleigh tilted her head to the side and looked at Natalia with expectation.

"I repeat Natalia," Calleigh said irritatedly, "What were you saying?"

For her part, Natalia did not feel reprimanded. She merely smiled with compassion at her co-worker.

"I said two guns have been recovered, a Glock and a .22," she said. "Horatio and Jesse and trying to locate any others but a lot of people reportedly scattered before patrol arrived on the scene. We have all these casings, but we may never find the guns they came from."

Calleigh closed her eyes knowing her job had just become so much more difficult. Without the guns, she would have a next-to-impossible time tying a shooter to a victim. In a melee such as this, she should have expected it. Still, that didn't mean she had to like it. She nodded at Natalia and rubbed the back of her neck.

"I'll have to see what slugs Dr. Lohman pulls out of the bodies," she said, exhaustion evident in her voice. "In the meantime, I've got a lot to do here. It's going to be a long night."

Natalia leaned against the bar. "I hear ya. It's a good thing I didn't have any big plans for tonight."

Calleigh smiled as she took a couple of evidence envelopes from her kit. "Heh. We have something in common."

Then she paused briefly as a strange feeling of déjà vu swept over her. Shaking her head, she quickly brushed it aside and got to work.

* * *

It had taken nearly 10 hours to fully process the bar. By the time he and his crew returned to the lab, the night shift had already checked in and had been called out to the scene of club shooting.

Horatio stared at his computer screen, trying to no avail to make his preliminary investigation notes come together in something that resembled a report. Five dead at the scene, two others died at the hospital. He and Jesse had notified three victims' families, Frank and Walter did the rest. Rubbing his tired eyes, he leaned back and rested his head against his chair. He didn't even want to look at the clock: It would only mock him. He still needed the ballistics reports, which meant Calleigh was probably still at the lab as well. He had a feeling neither of them would be leaving before sunrise.

"_It's been a while since I've pulled an all-nighter,"_ he thought grimly.

It comforted him to know he wasn't alone, though. Across town, his son was pulling an all-nighter too, studying for his mid-term exams. He could imagine Kyle sitting in his dorm room, surrounded by books, chewing on the end of his highlighter (a habit he had when he was in deep concentration) as he marked something important to remember for his test.

He looked over at a small table where he had some framed photos and his eyes rested on the one of Kyle at his high school graduation. The boy's tenacity was inspiring. Horatio couldn't believe how fast the school year was flying by. It had seemed like it was only yesterday that he had found out about his son's existence.

He picked up his phone and started dialing the boy's phone number, but paused, shook his head and put it back down on the receiver.

"_Better to let him study,"_ he thought, resting back in his chair once more. _"I'll see him over break."_

While most college students were heading to the beaches for spring break, he and Kyle had planned a deep-sea fishing trip with his nephew, Ray Jr., and Frank. The trip had been Kyle's idea and Horatio couldn't have been happier to oblige his son. It hadn't taken much to convince Frank either.

_"I could use some time off,"_ Frank had responded gruffly to the invitation.

Horatio could certainly relate to that and found himself looking more and more forward to the trip with everyday that passed. Sighing, he sat back up and stared at the computer screen again, determined to finish his work.

To his disappointment, fatigue wouldn't allow him to focus on the task at hand.

"_Coffee,"_ he thought. _"I need strong coffee."_

Groaning as he stood, he left his office and headed for the breakroom in search for sustenance. Though it was late, the lab was still busy as members of the night shift went about the same business as their daytime co-workers. While passing the DNA lab, he noticed a tall, slender woman in her early 40's with medium-length blonde hair and inquisitive brown eyes talking to one of the analysts. Horatio chuckled as shook his head when he heard the woman sternly order her analyst to re-test the sample for a third time.

"_Hardass,"_ he thought as the woman looked up and met his eyes.

Lt. Helen Graber, the night shift commander, saw Horatio walk by and she raised her hand up, motioning for him to wait. She quickly finished her discussion and met Horatio in the hallway, falling into step next to him.

"I'm glad I caught you, Horatio," she said bluntly as she placed a DNA report in a file she was carrying. "We need to talk."

Horatio grinned. He had known her for years and was familiar with her cut-to-the-chase attitude: It is what made her such a good CSI.

"Hello to you to Helen," he joked as they walked. "How is your night? Personally, mine could be a little better, but I do so love our little chats. What's so important that you couldn't have e-mailed me?"

Helen glared at him as they walked into the breakroom.

"You know I despise e-mail," she looked around and lowered her voice as Horatio poured himself a cup of questionably strong coffee. "Besides, this was not something I felt comfortable putting out in the company computer system. You never know what IAB is looking for."

Though Helen was widely known for her strong dislike of the Internal Affairs Bureau, it was his co-worker's seriousness that caught his attention.

"What is it?"

"Not what," Helen responded quietly, her gaze fixed on the door. "Who. Duquesne to be specific."

Horatio frowned. "What about her?"

Helen shifted and folded her arms across her chest. "About a month ago, Bailey came to me and said Duquesne has been working late pretty much every night since before Christmas. Not that it bothered Bailey by any means, he said he liked having the company of something other than the ghosts of the gun vault, but it struck him as kind of strange. So I started watching her."

Horatio narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips as Helen continued:

"Look, there's overtime and then there is OVERTIME. The hours Duquesne is putting in is beyond that. She's leaving here anywhere between two and three in the morning every day. And I mean every day, Horatio. If she's working normal day shifts, then that only gives her three hours of sleep at night, tops. If that's the case, she is going to get sloppy and she is eventually going to get hurt."

Horatio stared at Helen, trying to hide his disbelief at his ballistic expert's behavior. Their relationship had been strained to the extreme in the last few months. Still, he had been under the assumption that they were still able to work together. She hadn't mentioned putting in overtime. He had noticed that Calleigh's response to call-outs was a lot faster than it used to be, but knowing how serious she was about her job, he hadn't paid much heed to it.

"_Apparently, I should have been,"_ he thought as he looked down at the floor for a moment then back up at Helen. He silently berated himself for not noticing Calleigh's long hours.

Though he had no reason to doubt her, if what Helen was saying was true, it would only be a matter of time before something bad happened. Whatever was going on between them, he wasn't about to let Calleigh endanger herself.

"_If something happens to her, I don't know what …"_ he stopped the train of thought before he could finish it. He had been down that path far too often, he couldn't bring himself to go down it again. He wouldn't.

He was still upset about what she had said, but the truth was he also found himself saddened by the lack of her presence in his life. He missed her a little more each day. Somehow, though, he found it easier to be angry with her than to examine the feelings that had started to develop on that fateful night when everything went to hell.

He also knew he had to confront the hateful things he had said to her. In his fury, he had unleashed a rage on her that he knew in his heart she didn't deserve. He had thought the fires of his anger over what had happened to Marisol had been long extinguished. So when Calleigh's drunken words re-ignited that blaze within him, she had been caught in the backdraft.

He was blaming her for something that was beyond her control. And he knew it was wrong.

He let that thought sink in as Helen started talking again.

"I'm not going to tell you how to run your shift, but it's clear as glass that that girl is exhausted," she said quietly. "I know she is working on this bar melee, but she needs to sleep. Sooner or later, something is going to slip. If a defense attorney gets a hold the fact that she is in a compromised mental or physical state, then all of the evidence she has worked will be called into question. And that would be just the kind of thing those bloodsuckers at IAB would have a field day with. Not to mention the press."

Helen waited a beat before concluding her statement. "But worse than all of that, you and I both know this is the type of thing that could get her killed."

Horatio took in all the information Helen laid out for him. After a few silent moments, he looked at her and nodded.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said with determination. "I will take care of the situation right now."

With that, he left the breakroom and headed straight for the ballistics lab. No longer needing coffee, Horatio was now fueled by the force of his resolve to ensure Calleigh's safety and hopefully, salvage what he could of their friendship.

* * *

***Insert dramatic chipmunk music here* Feedback is love. Share it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**My Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.

Timeline: Refers to much of CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.

**Chapter 5**

"_There was a kink in the world, sent that statue tumbling,"_ – Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

He found her sitting in the ballistics lab. All the lights were off.

There was no sign of Bailey. Horatio figured the night ballistics tech was still at the scene of the club shooting.

Calleigh was alone … in the dark. Again.

The last time her found her like this, he hadn't thought anything of it. He had accepted her explanation and moved on.

This time, his nerves sparked with something akin to fear. This time – no matter what she said, no matter what explanation she would have – he knew she was in trouble.

Like that horrible night four months ago.

Unlike that night, however, no matter what she said or did, he wasn't going to walk away from her. He never should have in the first place. He added that painful regret to the stockpile in his memory.

He knew he would need to get back on equal footing with her in order to make things right. He considered asking her to his office to talk, but then thought better of it. He knew Calleigh well enough to know that she wouldn't open up easily, especially given the tension between them lately. She could face down any number of terrors they encountered on a regular basis, but when things started getting personal, she would hide behind a passive façade.

He wouldn't let her hide this time.

"_Better to do this on her terms, and the ballistics lab is best for that,"_ he thought. It was quiet, secure and most importantly, it was her turf. He may be her boss, but the lab was her domain.

Whether she liked it or not, this angry tango they had been dancing was over. He wasn't too proud to be the first to concede. He was more concerned about her well being than his own ego.

He regarded her silently through the door. She sat back in her chair, balancing precariously on the back legs as she rested her feet on the desk. Her head was tilted to the side and her eyes were closed.

Horatio watched her closely. Her breathing was even and she was still.

To anyone who didn't know her any better, they would assume Calleigh was asleep. He, however, knew better. And she knew it too.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" she asked softly, unmoving as he gently opened the door to the lab and stepped in. When he said nothing, she slowly opened her eyes and gracefully lowered her feet and chair to the floor. She watched passively as he approached, grabbed a nearby chair and placed it in front of her. She had resolved not to be the one to yield, but she still hadn't actually expected Horatio to make the first move.

Though when she really thought about it, she should have known that he would. She just didn't know how she felt about it.

They studied each other closely as he sat in front of her. After a while, Calleigh began to wonder if she was indeed asleep and this was only a dream, if her psyche had conjured up an image of her long-lost friend as a way to make her mind accept what her heart already knew.

The illusion was broken when Horatio finally spoke: "Can I ask you a question, Calleigh?"

She propped an elbow on the desk and rested her head against her hand. She considered him for a moment before nodding in the affirmative. His gaze went to the floor for a moment before he looked up and his blue eyes locked with hers.

"Why do you like the dark?"

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. She hadn't expected this from him. She turned her head for a moment and licked her lips.

"Who says I like the dark?" she replied, before turning her face back to his.

Horatio smiled sadly and shook his head. By not answering that question, she answered another one that had been gnawing at him, one that he would confront her about eventually, but not tonight. He sighed and sat back in his chair.

"Calleigh," he said with tired frustration and looked at her with an expression that didn't quite reprimand her, but wasn't exactly compassionate either. "This is the second time I have found you alone in a dark room at work."

She sighed and sat up straighter, uncomfortable as she listened to Horatio continue to analyze her:

"Your apartment is furnished with dark furniture. Four years ago, you bought a black car and for that same amount of time, your wardrobe has consisted of dark-colored clothing. You used to be a morning person, yet I'm told you've been putting in a lot of hours at night – and not in a regular, approved overtime capacity. You are surrounding yourself in darkness. But more than that, you seem to be _hiding_ in it."

She looked at him sharply. "Are you dissatisfied with my work, _sir_?"

Horatio's face hardened for a moment, but just as quickly softened as he chewed on his lower lip. Calleigh watched this involuntary movement with a strange fascination.

"Your work is impeccable, and you know it," he said slowly. "I just … I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine."

He glared, fighting the urge to grab and shake her. "No, Calleigh. You're not. In fact, you are far from fine."

She scoffed loudly and waited for his anger to be incited by her rebuke. She was mildly surprised, when his expression became sad and wistful instead. He cleared his throat but never broke eye contact with her. Her smirk faded as he clasped his hands together in his lap and leaned forward. It almost looked like he was praying.

"Cal … what happened in my office … you didn't deserve it," he said with honest, sincere regret in his voice. "What I said, the way I treated you was wrong. I'm not seeking absolution here, but you need to know that I'm more sorry than I can say. It will never happen again."

She looked away for a moment and took in his apology. Part of her wanted to remain angry and wanted to know why he had gone off the way he had. Another part of her told her that what was done was done and to let it go. He had apologized and she had no doubt that his words were true. What good would it do either of them to delve back into a painful, destructive moment in their lives?

There was also the sad fact that she missed him …

As torn as she was, she conceded that it felt good to just share the same space with him. There was a time in her life when she thrived working by his side - the thrill of the chase. She missed that feeling too, though she wasn't convinced they would ever get back to that.

She ultimately decided to accept his apology without further explanation. She held no fear of a repeat performance of the events in his office, she believed him when he said it wouldn't happen again. But his remorse didn't erase all the conflict she was feeling in regards to him. She didn't expect it to though. It's not like he could know what was in her head when she could barely make sense of it herself.

God knew she had tried. She barely ate, she couldn't sleep. But the answers remained elusive to her, just beyond her reach.

She began to wonder what Horatio would say when she finally went mad. She prayed he wouldn't be there to see it. She couldn't live with his pity.

He was looking at her intently. She nodded at him, a silent gesture that told him she accepted his apology. They really didn't need to use words. They had an instinctual connection.

_"Or least we used too," _Calleigh thought.

Relaxing back in her chair, silence again filled the room briefly.

"Can I ask you a question now?" Calleigh said, studying his reaction.

His eyes went back to hers. He searched the green depths for a minute, trying to get a read on what was going on in her mind. When he established that she was a closed book, he decided going quid pro quo might be the only way to open her up. After all, if he was going to help her, he was going to have to play by her rules.

"Go ahead," he replied earnestly.

She licked her lips again and hesitated for a beat, realizing that if she didn't do this now she might never work up the courage to confront him in this manner ever again.

"When – or more importantly why – did you stop trusting me?" she asked, a definite tone of defeat in her voice. Her beautiful eyes became glassy and her cheeks flushed.

It felt as if someone had yanked his chair out from under him. Horatio sat in disbelief, not quite sure he had heard Calleigh's question right. How could she, of all people, question her importance to him?

He remembered what she had said that day:

"… _don't insult my intelligence by trying to make me believe that I was ever important enough to you …"_

Horatio's heart sank. _"When did she start to believe she didn't matter to me?" _he thought as he searched his memory.

"I … I don't understand …"

He had expressed this out loud, not realizing that Calleigh misunderstood his confusion. She closed her eyes and shook her head in resignation.

"No. Of course you don't," she mumbled quietly, fighting the lump forming in her throat. She willed herself to keep her emotions in check. She would not cry. She would not get emotional. She would keep control. She fought against her fatigue and stress to maintain her tenable grip on the situation.

If only she weren't so tired …

When she felt the gentle squeeze of Horatio's warm hand on her arm, she knew the battle was over.

"Calleigh," Horatio said with quiet urgency. "Whatever has happened in our lives, whatever will happen in them, you need to understand that I trust you with my life, with everything I have and am. I know there has been a distance between us, but no matter what conflicts we have, you should never, _ever_ doubt how important you are and always will be to me. Nothing will ever change that."

She wanted to resist, rebel against the traitorous tears that started sliding out from her closed eyelids and down her pale face. She cursed him for stirring these volatile emotions within her. She cursed herself for being weak, for choosing now to come apart - in front of him of all people.

She cursed fate for its fickle timing.

Overwhelmed, she turned her face away. Too much had happened … she didn't want to believe his words … they only confused her further.

Before she could stop herself, her body was wracked with uncontrollable sobs. She couldn't hold on anymore. She felt herself fall …

Horatio saw the moment she shattered and moved swiftly to catch her before she fell from her chair. He gently cradled her against his body as he lowered both of them to a sitting position on the floor. Holding her tightly, he let her cry into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with her tears and breaking his heart with her pain.

Despite her earlier resistance, she clung to him with an impenetrable force, as if he were her lifeline, the only thing keeping her descending completely into the bottomless abyss. She released all of the frustration, anger and darkness she had been feeling in a torrent of raw, completely exposed emotion.

Through it all, Horatio held her in his strong arms, gently rocking her back and forth, trying desperately to find some way to shelter her against the raging storm of her own mind.

"It's okay, I've got you … It's okay," he whispered the words of comfort in her ear repeatedly, hoping they were getting through, hoping that she understood he was there for her.

Never before had he seen her like this and it frightened him to the core. He tucked her head under his chin and closed his eyes as he tenderly stroked her hair. He searched deep within himself for the strength to pull her through this.

Too many times he had been here, watching as someone he cared about slip away from him to an unreachable place.

He would NOT lose Calleigh.

He would move heaven and hell if he had too, but with every fiber of his being, he would not fail her.

"_I won't let you go,"_ he vowed silently to her as he hugged her as tears formed in his own eyes. _"I refuse to let you go into this darkness, Calleigh. Don't give up sweetheart. Don't leave me."_

* * *

**Sooooo, whatcha think? I would LOVE to hear any thoughts on this chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

**My Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.

Timeline: Refers to much of CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.

**Chapter 6**

"_Now that you tear your dreams, from consumptive ballerinas. She'll stand on tiptoe for you, in her gray and tattered tutu."_ – Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

She walked faster than she normally did. The rapid staccato beat of her heels against the linoleum floors of the lab were the only indication she gave that she was there. She had stepped off the elevator and headed for the ballistics lab, hoping against all hope that everyone around would ignore her presence.

Maybe if she didn't see them, they wouldn't see her.

She didn't notice the worried looks on her friends' faces. She didn't see the bewildered eyes of the receptionist following her down the hall. She didn't see her co-workers dodge out of her way, parting to avoid the tempest that had blown into the Miami-Dade Crime Lab.

And though she didn't see it, she _knew_ he was watching. She could feel his eyes on her.

Covering her.

Cornering her.

She gripped the white envelope in her hand so tightly that her fingernails punctured the crisp paper. As she rushed down the hallway, she kept her eyes on the floor, driven purely by recognition and instinct to her comfort zone: The gun vault.

Calleigh swallowed back a chuckle at the insanity of it. If the higher-ups knew how screwed up she really was at that moment, there wouldn't be a snowball's chance in hell that she would be allowed to handle a firearm, let alone surround herself with them.

No way, no how.

Once she finally reached her primary destination of the lab, she immediately turned and went into her secondary destination, the vault. The door slammed with the force from her anxiety and she leaned against it, covering her eyes. In her frustration, she released the envelope at it swayed lethargically to the ground.

Taking several deep breaths, she paced back and forth erratically, trying desperately to get herself together. She ran shaky hands over her slicked back hair and squeezed her eyes shut. Finally, she leaned against the door and slid down to the floor, resting on her knees. She clasped her hands behind her bowed head and gritted her teeth.

Her only consolation was that her co-workers couldn't see her coming apart at the seams.

Not that it really mattered. _He_ had already seen it.

It had been a week since she had fallen apart in front of Horatio. She still hated herself for it. She wanted to hate him for it too. And that made her hate herself even more.

Since that night, she had done everything she could to avoid him on anything more than a strictly professional level. The Irish bar shooting had monopolized most of her week, and she had been grateful for the distraction. But when the work was done and handed off to the State Attorney's Office, he was there again, not physically but in her thoughts.

And he didn't leave. Even if he wasn't standing directly beside her, she could still feel his presence, as if he could see through walls, down streets and into other buildings. It didn't matter where she was or when, she swore she could _feel_ him.

Even at that moment, in the security of the gun vault, she just knew he could sense her …

She found it unnerving to say the least. So many times she had watched him focus his entire attention on a suspect, victim or witness. She knew he was stubborn and relentless. There had been many an occasion where she wondered and worried if he was becoming too invested in a case by the intensity of his determination. In the end, she often felt foolish for her apprehensions, for when it came down to it, she trusted his instincts.

But now it was she that was on the other end of that intensely driven focus and the weight of it bothered the hell out of her. She abhorred the idea that he was treating her like she needed to be rescued. She didn't need to be saved. She wasn't some damsel in distress.

She didn't need a hero.

Looking at the white envelope on the floor, she exhaled and sat on her rear, resting her head in her hands. It didn't take long before her traitorous memory started its assault:

_She was so tired. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was until the cold floor of the ballistics lab caused a chill to shudder through her._

_She almost gasped when she felt Horatio gently rub her back and his own body's reaction to her inadvertent shiver._

_When she finally realized the position they were in, she tried to pull away._

_But he held fast, strengthening his hold on her. She closed her eyes, remembering the last time he had held her that tight. It had been after Tim had died. It had been a moment of mourning, comfort and support for both of them._

_This time was different._

_This time she could feel that rapid pounding of his strong heart in his chest and his quick breathing. His hands shook as he stroked her hair._

_And God help her, she found herself succumbing to the hypnotic rhythm of his ministrations, easing her troubled mind and calming her weary soul._

_But he was crushing her so tightly to him that it was difficult for her to breathe._

"_Horatio …" she whispered, her head still resting under his chin, "please let go."_

_For a moment, his grip tightened more, but soon relaxed enough to let her move her arm. Placing her hand on his chest, she pushed back just far enough to see his face. What she saw knocked the wind out of her: Fear._

_There was honest-to-God fear in Horatio Caine's eyes._

_She considered it an emotion he may have had, but in ten years, it was one she had never seen before. Not in him. In the gamut of emotions she had seen cross his handsome features, fear had never been one._

_It amazed her that he was human after all. She wondered at what point she had put him on a pedestal, made him a standard higher than every other man she had met. The man that had occupied that spot knew no fear. He knew only justice and resolution._

_Then again, she reasoned, she was the one that had placed him on that pedestal; Horatio hadn't asked her to put him there. It was unfair of her to be angered by the reality that he, too, had flaws._

_She suddenly felt compelled to tell him this, but her voice had detached from her brain._

_His blue eyes examined her face closely and he reached up to wipe away the last vestige of tears from her cheeks. Unnerved by not only the intimacy of the gesture, but also the intensity of it, she closed her eyes and tilted her head down. She felt him drawn in a shaky breath._

_"I won't let you go, sweetheart," he said softly. "We are going to get through this together."_

_Realizing that he had misunderstood her previous statement, she opened her eyes and looked up. But the explanation died on her lips when she caught his gaze. The emotion behind his blue depths was raw and vulnerable._

_Just like her._

_She studied his face, saddened by the fear that was still there. This combined with his compassion, made her suddenly regret the animosity that had resided between the two of them. But after all was said and done, he was still her friend, and he still wanted to help her._

_She also knew the repair work would have to be done by both sides, something he seemed to be ready for._

_She gave him a slight smile as she reached up and cupped his cheek, hoping to assuage the fear in his eyes._

_Her smile faded however, when he reached up and pulled her face gently towards him. She closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her forehead. Calleigh felt shivers run down her spine as his warm breath tickled her skin._

_She felt the pressure from the pads of his thumbs and lifted her eyes to his._

_His gaze told her she wasn't alone._

_Her gaze begged him to understand._

_They stayed that way. Very close. Unmoving. Connecting on an entirely new level for them. Both of them feeling a strange sort of awakening that stirred in their very souls. Something surreal flickered in the air._

_They were both exposed._

_Literally._

_When the door to the lab opened, they both jumped as a short man with messy brown hair, green Converse high-tops and a Grateful Dead T-shirt walked in._

_Bailey stopped cold in his tracks as he took in the incredibly intimate scene in front of him. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as he stared at the day-shift lieutenant and his ballistics expert, before turning and walking red-faced out of the room._

_As she watched her co-worker abruptly leave, the impact of what had – and almost had – transpired hit her like a tsunami. Pulling away from Horatio, she looked everywhere but at him._

_"I …I need to go …"she said as she retreated out the door of the lab, leaving him still sitting on the floor._

That was the last night Calleigh worked late. Fortunately, Bailey hadn't said anything to anyone. At least that seemed to be the case. If there was a rumor about Horatio and her out there, no one had approached her about it yet. She took that as a good sign.

That or she was in denial. She hadn't decided which yet.

While she hadn't confronted Bailey out of apprehension, she couldn't come to terms with why she was avoiding Horatio.

As she looked up at the cold steel that comprised the gun vault, she came to the conclusion that denial was clearly the option she was choosing. She knew, however, it wouldn't be long before she was going to have to deal with her actions, and not just those where Bailey was concerned.

She was cognizant of the fact that if Horatio wanted to confront her, no amount of avoidance would stop him. She knew he was being patient with her. He was giving her space.

He understood what she needed. Which was good since she wasn't sure about it herself.

She knew in her heart that sooner or later, he would stop waiting. And while she didn't know what would happen when that moment came, she knew that one way or the other, she would have to be ready for it.

Her eyes went back to the blank white envelope on the floor and, with trembling fingers, she reached down and lifted it. Tapping it against her hand for a minute, she considered the magnitude of its contents.

She sighed. Part of her felt like a coward. The other, however, reasoned a step – no matter how small – was better than nothing. She needed to maintain some semblance of control and right now, this was the best she could do.

She pushed herself up off the floor and mentally pulled herself together.

_"One foot in front of the other," _she urged herself as she reached for the doorknob of the vault.

She had no more than stepped into the main part of the lab when her phone chirped. She looked at it, instantly recognizing the code on the display and exhaled. She looked up as the door to the lab opened. She smiled at the tan, well-built man with dark hair and a lackadaisical grin on his face.

"You see the call out?" Jesse Cardoza asked as he held the door open with one hand and his cell phone in the other.

Calleigh nodded and stepped into the hallway with him. He fell into step with her as they headed toward the elevator.

"Frank is already there," he told her as they walked. "H called. He and Lohman are en route. Ryan is in court and Natalia and Walter are already out on another call. Horatio wants us to meet him out there."

As they passed the receptionist desk, Calleigh stopped and looked at Jesse.

"Why don't you get the car and I'll meet you out front," she explained as Jesse punched the button for the elevator. "I have to take care of something first."

"Okay," Jesse responded as the elevator doors opened and he stepped in. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Calleigh smiled and watched the elevator doors close. Then she looked down at the envelope in her hands, turned and quickly walked back down the hall.

* * *

"This just stinks."

From behind his sunglasses, Horatio cast Frank a sideways glance. The pier buzzed with activity as patrol officers taped off the area and onlookers chatted loudly in the background. While the smell of dead fish and chum was strong to the point of being nearly overwhelming, Horatio knew it was not what Frank was referring to.

Dr. Lohman stood in between them, shaking his head and taking in the odd sight before him.

"I've seen a lot of things in my career, but I have to tell you gentlemen that this is a first," he said as he raised a handkerchief to his face.

A large man's nude body hung upside down, impaled just above the groin area on a large hook used to suspended large gamefish and sharks. What was normally the man's upper half was a deep shade of crimson as all the blood had settled there. The lower extremities were white and starting to show the greenish tint of decay. The man's bloated stomach protruded gruesomely in the Miami heat.

Still holding the cloth over his face, Lohman approached and circled the body, examining it gingerly with gloved fingers. He grimaced and stepped back towards Horatio and Frank.

"This could be very messy, Lieutenant," he said matter-of-factly. "I know it's not normal procedure, but I think its best to wait for your team to get here before I continue with my examination."

Trying not to show his repulsion at the smell of the corpse, Horatio took off his sunglasses and looked at the medical examiner.

"What do you mean, Doctor?"

"The blood pool on the ground under the body indicates our unfortunate friend most likely died here," Lohman said. "Though I can't give you an estimate of time-of-death right now, there appears to be only one major trauma …"

"Which means," Horatio said as he looked down, "this man was alive when he was put on the hook."

Frank coughed.

Lohman shook his head. "I don't like to speculate based on an observational exam, but that appears to be the case."

"So why is that a problem?" Frank asked as he continued trying to breathe through his mouth.

"Well, detective, when a body expires, it loses control of muscles and as I'm sure you've noticed in past cases, that means certain … fluids … are released," Lohman said. "You can tell by his swollen abdomen that the body is already filling with gas. If this gentleman did in fact die upside down …"

Frank turned an unearthly shade of green and put his hands up. "Okay, I've got it, Doc. Thanks."

Horatio put his sunglasses back on and smirked as his friend's obvious discomfort. "However you want to do this, Doctor," he told Lohman. "My people will be here any moment."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he heard the familiar sound of a Hummer pulling in nearby. Turning to the side, he watched Jesse and Calleigh get out of the vehicle and retrieve their kits.

He grinned inwardly as he watched her walk with confidence. No matter what personal issues she had, Calleigh Duquesne was the consummate professional – all the time, every time. He knew she was much stronger than she was giving herself credit for.

He hoped in time she would believe that.

He also noted that every day for the last week, she had worn a bright- or light-colored shirt. Today was no different: He examined with appreciation the light blue cotton blouse that was daring, but not ostentatious.

He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her in something other than all black or black and white.

While he didn't know what exactly to make of the change of wardrobe, he did know that she was avoiding him. To that, he understood and allowed her the space.

The fact was it was space he needed too.

The events of that night in the ballistics lab were not ones he had ever expected or planned, but something fundamental had changed between them. And though he didn't know what to do about it yet, her presence - the mere thought of her - now invoked a warm thrill within him.

He didn't know what to do about that yet.

It was too bad that the first time they would get to spend more than a few minutes together would be at a horrific murder scene. He watched as she took in the details of the area and saw the instant the horrendous smell hit her: She didn't flinch, but instead wrinkled her nose and opened her mouth to breathe.

"_She is much stronger than she thinks," _he thought again as she and Jesse stopped in front of him.

Putting his hands on his hips, he looked at Jesse and signaled to the camera he was holding.

"Jesse, Dr. Lohman would like you to photograph the body before he proceeds with the initial examination," he instructed. "Frank will fill you in on the rest."

"I'm glad I packed a mask," the younger CSI mumbled as he covered his nose with his hand and walked away, followed by the detective.

Horatio watched for a moment before turning back to Calleigh. She had pulled her sunglasses up on her head and was looking at the scene. He didn't want to push her, but at the same time, he felt the overwhelming need to get something from her …

"This … this is twisted," she said disgustedly, cutting off his thoughts.

"Twisted doesn't even begin to cover it," he replied glancing back at the body for a moment.

"I'm going to need to get at that hook as soon as possible," she continued. "We could have prints, skin, DNA, anything on there. Whoever did this is sick, we need him off the streets quickly."

"I agree."

She looked back at him for a second, then put her sunglasses back on. "I better go help Jesse and Tom speed the process up a bit," she said as she started to walk away.

She got about two feet when she heard him call her.

"Calleigh."

She turned slowly, lured by the husky command of his voice and looked back at him inquisitively. "Yeah?"

"Nice shirt," he said with a mysterious smile.

* * *

**So ... lay it on me. What did you think about Calleigh's trip down memory lane?**

**Anyone want to take a guess as to what's in the envelope?**


	7. Chapter 7

**My Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.

Timeline: Refers to much of CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.

Status: Work In Progress

**Chapter 7**

"_Robber men await you there, each beguiling alley, To shake you and to pierce you, and remind you of, my dark life."_ – Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

"You ain't got shit on me, cop."

For a case as gruesome as this, the process had gone rather quickly. Before they could even get back to the lab, witness reports had led them to a potential suspect: Benjamin Arnold Jacobs, a well-known game fisherman with a nasty reputation and an even nastier anger management problem.

Standing across from him, Horatio placed both hands on the interrogation room table and leaned down, focusing his steely blue gaze on the man. Jacobs was bald and beefy, with stubby, calloused fingers and no visible neck. He wore a soiled, sleeveless white t-shirt and faded camouflage pants, and he sat back arrogantly in his chair, smirking at his inquisitor.

"That is where you are wrong, Mr. Jacobs," Horatio responded icily, making sure he held the man's gaze.

Jacobs stared right back at Horatio, as if daring him to step out of his cool exterior and go man-to-man with him for a few minutes. The suspect rubbed his chin for a minute in faux contemplation, his fingers brushing over several angry red scratches on his face, then he flexed his heavily tattooed arms and folded them across his chest.

"We'll see, Lieutenant," Jacobs responded, his voice low and cocky. "After my lawyer gets done with you, I'll have that pretty gold badge of yours mounted up on the wall next to my marlin."

Horatio chuckled menacingly, having heard similar threats so many times in the past by criminals who were clearly smarter than Jacobs He considered saying as much, but decided against it when he caught a flash of blonde hair in peripheral vision. He straightened and turned as Calleigh entered the room.

"_Perfection timing,"_ he thought, glaring at Jacobs who was visibly ogling Calleigh's backside as she walked.

Calleigh was unfazed by Jacobs' leers, and gave him a disgusted glance before approaching Horatio. In her hand, she carried a yellow file folder, which she handed to him as she sat down in a chair across from the suspect. She locked eyes on her prey while Horatio skimmed through the contents of the folder.

In truth, he didn't need to see what she had brought him. He knew that she would find what he was looking for, and he trusted that she would do it with flawless expediency. No matter the case (though he had to admit it had been awhile since the two of them had worked on one together), there was never any doubt that she would deliver when he needed her too.

He nodded as he handed the folder back to Calleigh, who took it and smoothly removed two pieces of paper. Setting one of the papers in front of her, she placed the other on the table and slid it forcefully to Jacobs, who glanced at it and shrugged.

"What's that?" he asked, unimpressed.

Calleigh's chin rose as Horatio stood behind her, waiting for her to go in for the kill.

"That is the result of a DNA test," she said with conviction. "You see Mr. Jacobs, you have a long history of letting your temper get the better of you. You've got quite a few arrest jackets because of it. So, we compared your DNA from an old assault charge to DNA from skin we found on the hook used to kill James Benson. We also found your skin cells under Benson's fingernails. I'm willing to bet dollars to donuts that's how you got those scratches on your face."

Jacobs sat feigning interest as Calleigh reached over and pointed to a set of numbers, illustrating her point. When she was finished, he gave her an exaggerated yawn.

"Like I told Howdy Doody here," he said waving a hand in Horatio's direction, "I don't know this Benson guy. Never seen him before in my life."

Though Jacobs' barb had been aimed at Horatio, Calleigh still tensed at his audacity.

"These match," she said, staring coolly at him. "Your skin is on the hook and on the victim. We have several witnesses that heard you threaten to kill Benson AND we can prove you lied about your alibi."

Jacobs frowned at the last part of her statement, but before he could say anything, Calleigh slid the second piece of paper over to him. It was a photograph taken from a security camera showing the large man on the pier. In his hands was a large fishing hook and some chains. The time stamp in the corner of the picture read 21:13.

Horatio grinned and folded his arms. "You weren't at the bar until 10, were you Ben?" he goaded. "We've got you at the pier, with the murder weapon, right before Mr. Benson was killed."

Calleigh leaned over and pointed to the DNA test still sitting on the table. "And, we have the science to back it up. You murdered James Benson and for that, you are going away for a very long time."

Without moving his head, Jacobs looked back and forth between Horatio and Calleigh for a moment, an expression of amused quandary on his meaty face. But there was something unusual … something about the man's demeanor that set Horatio on edge, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

Looking up, he was about to motion to the officers standing outside to take their suspect into custody, when Jacobs dropped his passive façade. His face suddenly turned purple and he let out a furious roar, lunging across the table at Calleigh.

"BITCH!" he screamed with bulging, wild eyes. Before Calleigh could react, Jacobs grabbed her left arm and practically yanked her up onto the table as he tried to get his other hand around her throat. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU BITCH!! I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH AND PISS ON YOUR BODY!! DO YOU HEAR ME BITCH?!"

Acting on instinct, Horatio was on Jacobs in an instant. Before the uniformed officers could even get into the room, he grabbed Jacobs by the back of the neck and with an animal force fueled by adrenaline, lifted him out of his seat and threw him against the wall, pinning his forearm against the man's neck. Jacobs fought to break free, but Horatio angrily held fast. Every time Jacobs moved, Horatio put more pressure against his esophagus.

Internally, Horatio was fighting a battle to control his own fury at how this _"SCUMBAG!"_ had attacked Calleigh. Just thinking about Jacobs putting his filthy hands on her made him want to …

"That … was a very … VERY … stupid move, Ben," Horatio seethed through gritted teeth as Jacobs struggled in vain against the powerful hold the lieutenant had him in. He brought his face in close and glared into Jacobs' brown eyes. "Just for that, we are going to add assault on a police officer to your murder charge."

Over the sound of her own coughing, Calleigh heard Jacobs gasping for air and was alarmed to see Horatio practically choking the man. She also saw the two uniformed officers watching with looks of surprised amusement on their faces.

Groaning at the unbridled display of testosterone, she did her best to appear unfazed by Jacobs' split-second assault and stood, walking over to her boss.

"I'm okay," she said sternly as she neared Horatio.

The sound of her voice caused him to unconsciously ease his grip on the suspect. When he did, Jacobs put his arms up and pushed Horatio away.

"That's police brutality, motherfucker!" Jacobs wheezed as he massaged his short neck. "I'll sue your ass!"

Horatio looked at him with disdain as the officers grabbed Jacobs' arms and slapped the cuffs on him.

"I'd worry about your own ass where you're going, Ben," he replied snidely as he nodded to the officers. "Get him out of here."

The officers complied and took Jacobs out of the room, reading him his Miranda rights as they walked away. Calleigh watched, taking a deep breath to calm her racing pulse. Her wrist was smarting from the way Jacobs had twisted it, but she didn't touch it.

She did not want to appear injured in front of Horatio.

He, however, was not fooled. Tapping his fingers against his belt, he studied her. When she tucked her hair behind her ear, he knew she was more shaken up than she was letting on.

"You okay?" he asked softly, leaning closer to her in an offering of support. When she nodded and stepped away from him, it was all he could do to keep from sighing in frustration. She glanced up and gave him a pseudo-smile.

"I'm fine."

He looked at her skeptically and she shrugged in response.

"It's not the first time I've been knocked around, and it won't be the last," she said rubbing her forehead. "Sometimes it comes with the job. I'm used to it."

He refrained from rolling his eyes. _"Of course you are,"_ he thought as he reached down and picked up the contents of Jacobs' file.

"Alright then," he said instead. "You ready to head back?"

She was already at the door. "You know it."

He followed her out of the room. By her anxious demeanor, he expected her to retreat quickly back to the labs, so he was surprised when she stopped and waited for him.

Opting not to take her company for granted, he walked by her side in silence to the elevator. It wasn't an uneasy or uncomfortable silence, but it was noticeably pregnant with things unsaid. Horatio cast a glance over at her.

"Another bad guy off the streets," he said with some pride in his voice. "Good work today."

She hummed in response and glanced back at him. "Just like old times."

A smile spread on Horatio's face. "Just like old times," he concurred, as the elevator signaled its arrival with a "ding". He put his hand on Calleigh's lower back and ushered her in as the doors opened.

Despite the apprehension she had experienced earlier, warmth started to emanate from the place where he innocently touched her, and it spread quickly throughout her body. Stiffening, she prayed her cheeks wouldn't flush and give her body's reaction to him away.

Her movement was not lost on Horatio, however, who felt her tense up. Suddenly awash with disappointment, he removed his hand from her back and pushed the button that would take them to the labs.

Calleigh immediately noticed when his touch left her body. Instead of being grateful for the space, however, she found herself greatly saddened by the loss of his touch.

"_What am I doing?"_ her internal voice asked.

She became so caught up in her own thoughts, that she didn't realize she was massaging her now very tender wrist.

"You really should have Tom take a look at that, Calleigh."

His low voice brought her back to the moment and she looked down at her hand. It was bright red with angry welts. She knew that it wouldn't be long before some ugly-looking bruises would form. Irritated with herself, she shook her hand loosely and let it hang by her side. She looked over at him and found his expression to be one of concern.

And that was not what she needed.

"Really, I'm fine," she said, trying to muster up as much confidence as she could. "Yes, my wrist is a little sore, but it isn't anything an ice pack and some aspirin won't fix."

She paused and looked down. She hated that she sounded so dismissive.

"_If not for Horatio, Jacobs could have done a lot worse," _she reasoned.

She looked back up at him. "Thank you, though," she said with a sincere smile, "for pulling that jackass off me."

He gave her a slight smile in return. "Anytime, ma'am."

They fell silent again as the elevator came to stop. Horatio held the doors open for Calleigh and followed as she stepped through them. Even though it was late in the day, the labs were still busy, bustling with staff running from points A to B to C.

They walked quietly before Calleigh stopped at the doors to the locker room. Horatio looked at her quizzically, wondering if she really was more injured by Jacobs' assault then she was letting on. Before he could say anything, however, she looked him in the eyes, her resolve firmly in place.

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to finish my report in the morning," she asked.

His eyebrows rose. Technically, her shift ended soon and she knew he wouldn't force her to stay. But the request itself surprised him. Calleigh never left before she had all the i's dotted and t's crossed in her work.

Then again, he reasoned, she hadn't worked late at all since _that_ night in the ballistics lab.

"_Maybe she's trying to tell me something,"_ he thought sadly.

He tilted his head, yet maintained eye contact with her. "Okay," he told her as he looked into her green eyes. In those depths, he saw a strange combination of apprehension and admiration. "Big plans for tonight?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

A strange expression glanced over her face as she looked down the hall. When she didn't respond to his lame attempt to lighten the mood, Horatio started to kick himself for saying the wrong thing.

But Calleigh soon saved him from a mental slap, and looked back at him enigmatically.

"We'll see," she said. Then she turned, walked into the locker room and disappeared from his sight.

Confused by what she had meant, Horatio exhaled and shook his head as he headed down the hall to his office.

* * *

Calleigh closed the door to her locker and leaned her forehead against it. Her heart was pounding in her chest and part of her wanted nothing more to go home and lock herself in her bedroom.

The other part of her told her to get a move on: Horatio would be in his office by now.

"_I don't want to be here when he finds that letter,"_ she thought anxiously.

Looking down at her watch, she realized how late it actually was. She didn't have much time …

"_I can do this,"_ she urged herself as she took one last look in a nearby mirror. She straightened her shirt, flipped her golden strands behind her back and checked her cell phone. Content that she was as good as she was going to get, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door: Ready as she would ever be for what the night would bring.

* * *

"_What is that?"_

When he had opened his door, Horatio had immediately seen the plain white envelope contrasting brightly against the dark cherry wood of his desk.

Frowning, he walked over and picked the letter up. As he did, a soft, familiar scent wafted from it, telling him instantly whom it was from.

Not bothering to sit, he saw that it was unsealed and flipped the top up, pulling the index card-sized note out. He examined it briefly before turning it over.

There was a short message scribbled in the center of the paper. It was written in her all-too familiar handwriting:

**Tonight. Guillermo's Café. 903 W. Flagler. 10:00 p.m.**

A few simple words and yet they were the predecessors to something far more complicated.

He looked over and saw that the clock on the wall read **9:03 p.m. **

Forgetting about his own report, Horatio folded the note in half and placed it in his jacket pocket.

"_I guess she is trying to tell me something,"_ he thought with a smile as he turned and walked out the door.

* * *

**I just love it when Horatio gets rough - it doesn't happen that often but it's HOT when it does. **

**Who guessed what was in the envelope?**

**What will happen next?**

**I love me some reviews (hint, hint, hint). :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Her Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.

Timeline: Refers to much of CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.

Status: Work In Progress

**Chapter 8**

_She came on, like a light, and so softly she spoke: 'You don't know, you don't know about, my dark life.'"_ – Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

Guillermo's was one of Calleigh's favorite places. It was a little-known, hole-in-the-wall-type of establishment owned by a Cuban man named Gustavo Toro. When he purchased the restaurant 23 years ago, he named it after his late father, Guillermo, who had a deep appreciation for food.

Unfortunately, Gustavo couldn't cook to save his life. Good fortune would eventually be on his side, however, when he hired Lucinda Maria Reyes as his chef. Her cooking – while not the greatest on Earth, but still vastly superior to Gustavo's – brought in customers, and her smile and countenance reeled in Gustavo's heart. They married a year after they met.

Every time Gustavo spoke of his wife – at least as far as Calleigh had heard – there was never any sarcasm. His words were always those of genuine adoration and love. Though Lucinda Maria stopped working at the restaurant many years ago, she still frequently visited. And whenever she walked through the front doors, Gustavo would immediately exclaim to everyone around him that "the most beautiful woman in the world" had arrived.

She almost envied Lucinda Maria. No one had ever shown her that kind of unrestrained love. At this point in her life, she was beginning to wonder if anyone ever would. Her relationships seemed to start out passionately, but never lasted long enough for the heat to turn into real commitment.

She mentally shrugged as she considered this. She wasn't the type of person who was defined by her relationships, and she knew she had good friends who cared. Still … there were nights when she felt cold and yearned for the warmth that only love offered.

That was something she would never admit to anyone. Ever.

Calleigh adored the Toros but found them to be an extremely odd couple. Gustavo was short, standing barely at five-feet tall, and chubby. His cheeks were always rosy and he had a thick mane of gray hair and a long, gray mustache. He was outgoing and his laughter was infectious. He reminded Calleigh of a Cuban Santa Claus.

By contrast, Lucinda Maria was almost a foot taller than her husband, and had an elegant, sculptured face with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. Even in her late 50's, she still had long, wavy dark hair with no traces of gray whatsoever. The only indications of her age were the wrinkles around her eyes and her hands, which were weathered by years of working with food and washing dishes. Still, she had a graceful beauty and she could have passed for someone much younger.

Lucinda Maria cooked for Guillermo's customers for ten years before handing her spatula off to a young man named Jerry. Jerry was a former biker with long blonde hair he wore in a ponytail, fading tattoos decorating both arms, a scar from a knife-fight running down the left side of his face and a crooked nose, a lasting reminder of a jailhouse brawl. Despite his rough exterior, Jerry had friendly blue eyes and a relaxed personality. Initially, Gustavo had been hesitant to hire him, but after sampling some of Jerry's cooking, Lucinda Maria convinced her husband the rough man would be an excellent fit.

Twelve years later, Jerry still ran the kitchen, cooked the food and gave Gustavo grief on a daily basis. Sometimes he even filled in as a bouncer when a customer stepped out of line – which was very rare.

At full occupancy, Guillermo's could only seat 35 customers in its booths and small, two-person tables. The floor was clean – mostly – but slightly dingy with age. The walls were painted in rich hues of dark yellow, red and brown. Pictures of Gustavo's family hung in antique frames on the walls. Ninety-eight percent of the entrees on the menu were fried or grilled foods while the remaining two percent were salads that no one ever ordered. The coffee could put hair on your chest, but if you needed to stay awake, it would do the trick and then some. The place had survived a tsunami and countless hurricanes, giving it a certain tenacity Calleigh appreciated.

She had discovered the small eatery six years ago after a case involving a rapper who had been shot inadvertently during the murder of his bodyguard. She fell in love with the restaurant and its staff, and had made it a point to stop there at least once a week. The place was quiet - with the exception of Gustavo's hearty laughter - and it was out of the way, which Calleigh thought added to its charm. But best of all, it had low lighting. As far as she was concerned, the dim lights made it all the more comfortable.

Next to the gun vault, this was her special place where she felt safe and at ease. She would come here alone and leave the intrusions, disruptions and discords of her life outside the doors. And because it was a place just for her, she had never taken anyone there before: Not her father, not John, not Jake, not even Eric.

She sighed. At first, she had been reluctant to have Horatio meet her there. While it may have been selfish, she thought of this place as being strictly hers. Having never brought any of the men she had been close to, not even her own father, it made this place somewhat sacred to her. As crazy as it seemed, if this meeting with Horatio went badly, her special place would forever be tainted.

However …

She wanted … no, _needed _… Horatio to understand why she had been so disconnected lately. She knew they had to talk. There was much she had to say to him and being in the most comforting – and non-work related – of surroundings seemed like the best course of action.

She chewed on her lower lip and looked at the old-fashioned, round-faced clock on the wall for the 20th time. She didn't even realize she was holding her breath as she watched to the second hand make its way around the numbered face, marking the time as 9:52 p.m.

Even as late as it was, Gustavo was there, chatting with the only other customers in the place. Calleigh recognized them for, like her, they were regulars. When Gustavo looked over and gave her a smile, she waved and took a sip of her coffee.

"Miss Calleigh, are you sure you don't want something to eat? Jerry has too much free time!" the Cuban man bellowed, earning some laughter from his companions.

"Maybe you wanna come back here and clean out the fryer yourself!" Jerry's deep, gruff voice bellowed from the kitchen, echoing out into the restaurant and making Gustavo laugh harder.

Calleigh also laughed, but shook her head. "No, thank you Gus, I'm good with the coffee for now."

Gustavo stood and walked over to her. "You break my heart young lady," he said jokingly, his rich brown eyes dancing as he laughed. "My beautiful wife, she worries about you. She says I need to feed you more, that you're too skinny."

Calleigh grinned, knowing Lucinda Maria had probably never said any such thing. However, Gustavo's good-natured persistence always got the better of her.

"Well, if it will make Lucinda Maria happy, perhaps I'll have something later."

The truth was, however, she was far too nervous to eat. She looked down at the sweet coffee she was holding and realized her hands were shaking.

"_Calm down,"_ she told herself as she continued to stare down at her hands, willing them to still.

She was so consumed in her thoughts, she didn't notice the front door open.

"Buenos noches!" Gustavo's boisterous voice caught her attention. "Welcome to Guillermo's senor! Please, sit anywhere you like!"

Instinctively knowing he was there, Calleigh looked up to find a startled Horatio standing in the doorway. Once again, their eyes locked and she felt her heart start hammering away in her chest. If Gustavo hadn't chosen that exact moment to intervene, she might have gotten up and bolted out the back door.

Surprised by the loud and verbal welcome, Horatio raised his eyebrows and smiled sheepishly at the Cuban man quickly making his way toward him.

"Come senor and sit," Gustavo clucked over Horatio as he took his arm and led him further into the restaurant. "I am Gustavo, owner and proprietor. ¿Como se llama? (What is your name?)"

Horatio cleared his throat and allowed Gustavo to lead him through the small café near to Calleigh's table.

"Um … Horatio," he said as he extended his free hand to Gustavo, which the other man took with enthusiasm. "Horatio Caine."

"Welcome Mr. Caine!" Gustavo said as he shook Horatio's hand. "You are new to us, but don't worry, we don't bite, do we Miss Calleigh?"

Though she said nothing, Calleigh couldn't help but laugh at the way Gustavo was fawning over Horatio. Moreover, she had to admit she found some delight in Horatio's reaction to the short man. Her boss' expression was somewhere between bemused and totally perplexed.

Calleigh decided to save him before Gustavo started in again.

"He's with me Gus."

Horatio smiled gratefully at Calleigh as he freed himself from Gustavo's grip and made his way to her table. She watched as he took off his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair. When he sat down, she smiled at him.

"Miss Calleigh! Finally, you bring a friend to Guillermo's!" Gustavo said, clapping his hands together energetically. He then looked at Horatio again.

"For years, Miss Calleigh comes in by herself. I tell my wife 'It's not right for such a lady to be alone,'" he huffed dramatically. "But Lucinda Maria, she tells me to mind my own business. So of course, I say nothing."

Blushing slightly, Calleigh looked down as Gustavo brought Horatio a menu, which he took with a smile and a nod of his head.

"Actually, Gus tells me that all the time," she whispered when Gustavo was looking away.

Horatio chuckled and set the menu down without reading it.

"I'll just have some coffee for now, thank you," he told Gustavo while examining Calleigh's demeanor.

She appeared tired, which he wasn't surprised about after the day they had had. He noticed the bruising on her wrist where Jacobs had grabbed her was much more pronounced and he frowned at the memory of the assault.

Calleigh saw his expression change.

"Is something wrong?"

He looked up at her somber face. "No, I'm sorry to stare. How is your wrist?

She looked at it and exhaled. "No worse for the wear."

Gustavo came back with Horatio's coffee and set it down on the table, smiling broadly at them both.

"Now Miss Calleigh, don't forget you said you would eat," he mock scolded, before turning to Horatio. "She's too skinny. She needs some good food in her. ¿Quizás usted la puede convencer, mi nuevo rojo dirigí a amigo? (Perhaps you can convince her, my new red headed friend?)"

Before Horatio could say anything, Gustavo was gone, returning to his other customers.

"Well," Horatio said with a grin, "he's … exuberant."

Calleigh returned his smile. "You have no idea."

They sipped their coffees in silence for a few minutes before Horatio set down his cup and leaned over the table. Calleigh didn't play games, he reasoned. If she asked him here, then there was a good purpose for it.

"What's going on, Calleigh?"

She looked away for a moment. Tracing the top of her cup with her finger, she tried to remember how she wanted to do this. Her memory, however, had abandoned her. She looked back at him and saw the concern on his face. She exhaled and decided to take the big jump.

"In all honesty, Horatio, I'm not sure myself."

Confused, he tilted his head. "I don't follow."

"Things have been strange for me," she said softly, meeting his gaze. "And I recently came to the conclusion that there has been a problem for some time. One you need to know about."

"What kind of a problem?"

Horatio watched as Calleigh fought with herself to open up and it tore at him. He was very grateful that she was opening up, but at the same time, he hated the idea of causing her more grief. Still, he swore to help her, to be there for her. He would make good on that promise, even if she didn't know about it.

"You said I am hiding in darkness," she said, still holding his eyes. "You said a lot of things last week, and while specifically much of what you said is true, I don't think you understand the context behind the points you made in regards to me. I'd like to explain some of that to you now, if you want to listen."

Horatio folded his hands together on the table and straightened some. "Whatever you need to say, Calleigh, I'm willing to listen."

"_That wasn't the case four months ago,"_ she thought with a grimace. _"But we'll cross that bridge later."_

He saw her face contort slightly, and he wondered what it was about his statement that caused that reaction. Hoping to connect with her somehow, he reached out and covered one of her hands with his.

"Talk to me, Cal."

Calleigh felt a surge of heat race through her and looked down at their hands. Swallowing hard, she tried to focus on what she needed to say and not the new feelings that his mere touch had stirred within her.

"Some people see evil and danger in the dark, but I've always loved it … ever since I was a child," she explained slowly. "My family thought it was weird, but never really gave me any trouble about it. I would sit in my room with all the lights off for hours. Sometimes I would play with my toys, other times I would lay on my bed and stare at the ceiling. But I never felt so relaxed as I did in the dark. It was a time when I could find clarity. The thing is, I still feel that way."

She waited for a beat, wondering if, like Jake, Horatio would make light of what she was saying. Instead, he nodded and gave her hand a squeeze.

"Go on."

Calleigh paused for a moment, grateful that he hadn't belittled what she had told him, but still nervous in knowing they still had a long way to go.

"It's ironic. People equate the dark with evil, but in fact darkness hides that which is bad," she continued. "You don't see the things that are broken or damaged. If you are familiar with your surroundings, you still know what constants are there, but the bad things are not visible. Even though those imperfections are still there, for that brief time when the light is shut out, they are forgotten."

"Hmm, what you don't see doesn't exist, even temporarily. Right?" Horatio asked quietly.

Calleigh bowed her head, unsure if this meeting had been a good idea after all.

"I know it seems weak, but …"

Horatio cut her off.

"On the contrary, I think I understand what you are saying, and it is far from weak."

She looked back up at him, surprise reflected in her eyes. Horatio straightened, though didn't release her hand.

"When the bad things aren't there to distract your focus, its easier to see what is still there and to find the good and the positive," he said. "That is something so many people are not willing to do. They take in the flaws and negatives and accept that which is damaged without ever thinking to look for the good again. But you don't. You see better in the dark. Then you step back into the light and you face everything with a new, different perspective. You may not have answers, but you have a better understanding of life. It takes strength to face life in that manner. You … are an incredibly brave person to be able to do that."

Calleigh stared at him for a moment in something akin to awe. She had never dreamed that anyone would understand her "dark" secret. It shocked her that after years of barely speaking, Horatio would be the one who would have such a strong insight into her mind.

"This is not the only thing you wanted to talk about," Horatio interrupted her thoughts.

She blinked and then came back to herself a bit. Nodding, she removed her hand from his and took a drink of her cooling coffee.

"No, it wasn't," she said, cradling the cup in both hands. "There is more."

Saddened that she was pulling back from him again, Horatio leaned back in his chair and lifted his own mug to his mouth.

Calleigh knew he was waiting for her to continue, but what she had to say next was hard to think about, let alone say. Mentally pushing herself, she exhaled and looked at him again.

"A few months ago, in your office …" she paused as Horatio closed his eyes and looked away.

The change in his behavior caused disappointment to wash over her.

"_This was a bad idea,"_ she thought bitterly as she rubbed her eyes.

"I should have never spoken to you that way, Calleigh."

She lowered her hands from her face to find him looking at her with an expression of regret, much like the one he had that night in the ballistics lab.

"I'm not looking for another apology, Horatio," she said, running her hands through her hair. "I'm just trying to clarify something that might explain why I became so upset."

Horatio frowned. "I thought you were reacting to what I said?"

"I was, in part," she said. "But the truth was I had been unsettled about something I didn't fully understand for a long time. What I said to you that day has helped me come more or less to terms with it."

"And what's that?" Horatio asked, his voice thick with concern.

"I was angry at you … for pushing me away."

Horatio stared at her for a moment, letting her admission sink in. When he said nothing, she continued:

"This wasn't a recent thing, Horatio," she explained tenderly. "You pulled away from everyone after … after Marisol died, but you had separated yourself from me long before that."

Horatio drew in a sharp breath at the mention of his late wife, and for a split second, he considered leaving right then, but his willpower overcame his angry grief and he reined his emotions back in.

"_It wasn't her fault Marisol died,"_ he reminded himself. _"Don't take it out on her."_

He opened his mouth to speak, but Calleigh held her hand up.

"Let me say this, please?"

He nodded. Propping his elbows on the table, he folded his hands and leaned his face against them, covering his mouth as Calleigh spoke.

"After Tim died, you stopped working cases with me," she said. "At the time, I assumed it was because you wanted me to train Ryan. As a level three, it made sense to pair me with him, and that was fine. It was my job and I have no qualms with that. But once Ryan was acclimated, you still opted to work with Eric more. And after Rio … I think I can count on one hand the number of times you and I actually worked a case. And that was roughly four years ago."

She watched as Horatio sat there, saying nothing.

"When you and Marisol got engaged, I found out from Eric. Consequently, I found out about Kyle from Eric as well. And last year, when we thought you were dead …" she paused and swallowed hard at the painful memory, "Imagine how I felt knowing you trusted Ryan and an ATF agent you barely knew over me. I have sniper skills, Horatio. I could have helped you."

Calleigh sat back in her chair and looked away. Horatio remembered her words from the ballistics lab: _"When – or more importantly why – did you stop trusting me?"_

At the time, he hadn't understood why she didn't know that he trusted her with his life. Now, it was abundantly clear why.

"So, when I yelled at you …" Horatio started.

"I honestly thought you had no faith in me. And all the frustration I have felt over the last few years just exploded," Calleigh finished.

"I see."

Crestfallen, Horatio placed both of his hands on the table. It occurred to him that she had never mentioned the events of the night before the blowout in his office and he was becoming more certain that she didn't remember what had happened, or what had been said. Despite this, Calleigh had been holding in a lot of anger and disappointment, and he hated that he hadn't seen it sooner. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"When Megan resigned, I never saw the signs that she was faltering … and I should have," Horatio said as he looked back as Calleigh. "I blamed myself for not paying attention and I swore not to let it happen again. And yet, here I am."

This time, Calleigh reached for him, taking his left hand in hers.

"This isn't a blame game, Horatio," she said with sincerity. "And I'm not Megan. I'm not going anywhere. I just need you to understand why I reacted the way I did. When we were in the ballistics lab last week … I believe what you said about trusting me. It's because I believe you that I wanted you to know why I asked what I did."

Heartened somewhat by her words and her touch, Horatio covered her hand with his.

"So what now?" he asked.

Calleigh gave him a soft smile and let him hold her hand in his.

"I think we start over," she said. "Working with you today felt good. Despite the case and the suspect, I think we make a great team."

"I agree," Horatio smiled, relieved that Calleigh did, in fact, want to stay. Feeling the weight of their conversation beginning to lift, he leaned back in his chair. "Tomorrow's a new day."

Looking over her shoulder at the clock, Calleigh was surprised that it was almost midnight. She and Horatio were the only customers left in the restaurant.

"Tomorrow is almost here," she said with a laugh. "I hadn't realized how late it was."

"Yes, well time flies when you're … you know," Horatio replied with a grin.

As if on cue, Gustavo came out from the kitchen carrying two large, Styrofoam containers.

"Ah Miss Calleigh! Mr. Caine! I'm so sorry, but I have to close up before my beautiful wife comes looking for me!" he exclaimed as he approached their table and placed the containers in front of them. "Now, I had Jerry make each of you a wonderful dinner to take with you. Mr. Caine, please make sure Miss Calleigh eats or my Lucinda Maria will never speak to me again."

Horatio chuckled as both he and Calleigh stood.

"Thank you Gustavo, I'm sure it's delicious," she said before excusing herself to use the restroom.

"Yes, thank you Mr. Toro, I'm sure Calleigh will enjoy every bite," Horatio added. As he reached for his wallet, Gustavo placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"No charge, senor," he said graciously with a wink. "Miss Calleigh, she is like a daughter to me. She always seems so lonely. Any man who can make her smile is a good man. Una señora tan lindo no debe mirar tan triste. (A lady so lovely shouldn't look so sad.) Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Caine?"

Then Gustavo leaned closer to Horatio and whispered conspiratorially: "¿No es ella una hermosa mujer?"

Horatio smiled as he watched Calleigh emerge from the bathroom. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with new life and she gave him a brilliant smile.

"Yes, Mr. Toro," Horatio responded softly, caressing her with his eyes. "She IS a beautiful woman."

* * *

**This one took a little longer to write as some other wonderful CSI: Miami fanfic totally distracted me this week: I'm looking at you Calleigh's Lover, LA Calleigh and CaineSpeedle.**

**Without spoiling it, I will say things will begin to get ... interesting ... now.**

**In the meantime, what did ya'll think about this chapter? I love feedback ... it motivates me to update. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Her Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.

Timeline: Refers to much of CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.

Status: Work In Progress

**Chapter 9**

"_Enter the pious elite, in their preening finery, and bang the tambourine. They're dining on rice paper scenery." _– Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

**Nine days later**

"This HAS to be a conspiracy."

Calleigh watched with a smirk as Lohman jammed a thermometer into the liver of the six-foot tall Easter Bunny lying on the ground. Next to her, Ryan snapped pictures of blood spatter on the walls and floor of the small changing room the body was found in. He stopped and looked outside the door where a crowd of crying children in spring dresses and suits and agitated soccer moms strained to see what was going on beyond the hindering yellow and black crime scene tape.

"I mean, the leprechaun by nature is kind of a creepy little creature, so I can ALMOST see why it might invoke homicidal tendencies," Ryan said as he turned to Calleigh. "But come on, who would want to take out Peter Rabbit?"

Calleigh shrugged. "An angry farmer?"

Lohman snorted, causing Ryan to roll his eyes.

"Everything is fairly fresh. There is no cloudiness in the eyes so I would estimate time of death to be between one to two hours ago," Lohman said as he continued to prod the costume-covered body. "It appears there are at least five stab wounds, but we'll get an exact count once we remove the suit."

The head potion of the costume was sitting on a nearby box, leaving the victim's face exposed. As Ryan continued his work, Calleigh walked as best as she could around the cramped space. She looked over the room's small vanity, scanning for clues before she started her part in processing the scene. She put her kit down and opened it, reaching for a pair of gloves, the dusting powder and a brush. As she moved, she caught sight of Horatio and Frank in the reflection of the vanity mirror. They were standing outside, talking to a very agitated mall manager. Horatio, who was wearing a striking dark suit with a crisp white button down shirt, was nodding at something the man said as Frank took notes.

Things had been much friendlier between them since their talk at Guillermo's. In fact, Calleigh was starting to feel a lot like her old self again. She didn't feel as weighed down as she had been, and – though it was in a short amount of time – she re-discovered an excitement for her job she thought she had outgrown.

At the same time, Horatio seemed to find a way to visit with her every day. Even if they weren't working a scene, he would drop by the ballistics lab to see how she was doing or sometimes just to say "Hi." She assumed he was simply checking on the status of her mental health, but she thought it felt nice to re-establish the repartee they once had.

As if sensing eyes on him, Horatio looked away from the manager and toward the dressing room. Figuring he couldn't see her, Calleigh allowed herself to look at him in the mirror a minute longer, then she smiled and got to work.

"I'm gonna check something, Cal. Be right back," Ryan said as he removed the camera from his neck and stepped over the body toward the door.

"Kay," Calleigh said, turning to find that not only had Ryan left, but Lohman had as well. Unfazed by the fact it was just she and the dead bunny now, she continued dusting the vanity for prints. Finding several, she bent down to retrieve some lifters from her kit.

As she started back up, she saw in the reflection of the mirror that she was no longer alone. Horatio stood behind her, sunglasses in hand, examining the dead man on the floor. Though he said nothing, Calleigh knew he was cataloguing the details of the scene in his mind. Opting not to interrupt his train of thought, she opened the first lifter and placed it down on the table of the vanity. She repeated the process several times before deciding to break the silence.

"Would you think less of me if I made an Elmer Fudd joke right now?" Her southern accent light, she placed a lifter in an evidence bags.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, telling her he was at least _slightly_ amused, even if he wasn't going to admit to it. It was his way. He treated every case seriously and with respect – no matter how bizarre the circumstances may be. However, he never held it against his staff when they found humor in the scenes. Given the horrific elements of their jobs, he knew they needed some kind of outlet, otherwise, the very cases they investigated would haunt them. Laughter was the best coping mechanism.

Putting his hands on his hips, he looked over the body one more time before raising his eyes to hers.

"The victim's name is Robert Daniels," he said. "This is … _was_ … his third year working as the Easter Bunny here at Palm Ridge Mall. Tom is working with the mall manager now to close off the scene so the body can be removed without any children seeing it."

Calleigh nodded, hoping that this incident wouldn't ruin the innocence of the holiday for the kids outside. While she and Ryan could make jokes, she knew just how damaging something like this could be for children to witness.

"Tom said Mr. Daniels died roughly two hours ago," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "That would mean he was attacked before the mall opened. Our suspect may be someone who works here."

"Not necessarily, there are a lot of stores in this mall," Horatio said, tapping his fingers against his gun holster. "All of them have at least one employee who would have a key to gain entrance in the mornings. Our suspect could have used that to their advantage."

"How many stores are we talking?"

"53, not including the restaurants in the food court."

"And we don't have a murder weapon," Calleigh sighed. "Well, I just started processing the area and I've already got quite a few prints on this vanity alone. There's a chance I'll find something here that will help us narrow it down some."

Horatio nodded. "Let's hope for that. In the meantime, Frank and I will start talking to the employees."

"You know where I am if you need me."

She turned and kneeled to get more lifters out of her kit. As she moved, Horatio took in the short-sleeved, light green cotton shirt and gray pants she was wearing. The color of her shirt accentuated the emerald shine of her eyes.

While he wasn't sure what he was feeling, he was noticing her more and more: What she wore, how she did her hair, the color lipstick she had on, the smell of her perfume, etc. But more than that, he heard the change in her voice. The spunk that was characteristically hers was beginning to re-emerge, making him realize just how detached he had been from her in the last few years. She seemed more at ease … lighter. He saw it in everything she did, from the way that she walked, to the way she snapped on a pair of latex gloves, to the way she sassed the rest of team (though Ryan took the brunt of it).

And what he saw, he found he liked … a lot.

Yet, he wasn't sure how to handle those new feelings, for it was similar to a situation he had already been in.

Yelina.

Though they were never romantically involved, there was a part of him that liked her closeness … both on and off the job. Yelina was familiar, she was beautiful and comfortable and he could trust her. He wanted to be there for her and his nephew, Ray Jr., to take care of some of what would have been Raymond's responsibility. They were his family, after all. But he became confused when he the embers of feelings for her he thought were long extinguished began to burn again.

During the Tess Kimball murder case, Yelina hinted to her own feelings for him and for a split second, he seriously considered reciprocating what she was offering. Instead, his sense of duty forced him to back away. Even though they had both believed Raymond to be dead at the time, she was still his brother's wife. There would always be something that made it seem … wrong … to love her in a non-platonic way.

_" _… _it is very easy to get used to those boundaries," _he had told her. She hadn't appeared too dejected, but she also didn't let him push her away too far. In the end, it had been for the best. They went their separate ways.

But now here he was again, though with someone new. Despite his best efforts, he found himself yearning to be closer to Calleigh, and he was conflicted over this new desire for her.

Eric.

The situations were different in many regards; Calleigh and Eric were never married and to the best of his knowledge, Eric was still in Puerto Rico. While he wasn't 100 percent sure that Calleigh wasn't carrying feelings for Eric, it truly seemed like she had moved on.

And there was the fact that every smile she gave him now filled him with a new kind of warmth. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

Still … Eric was his brother-in-law. He was still Horatio's family and nothing would ever change that. He wasn't sure if, even in this new situation, the boundaries were any different.

"Earth to Horatio?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and lifted his eyes back to Calleigh's. She had an amused expression on her face.

"I was starting to worry that I'd lost ya there for a minute, handsome," she teased, the right side of her mouth upturned in a smile.

"_Handsome …"_ he wrapped his mind around the word and the implied flirtation behind it.

Blushing, he looked down and nodded. "Sorry about that," he said apologetically, hoping that she wasn't offended that he had been staring at her.

She chuckled and walked around the body toward him. "While you were in the zone, I asked if you wanted me to head back to the lab when I'm done here?"

Her soft laughter and her nearness made his body tingle with warmth.

"Yes, best to get a start on those prints as soon as we can," he said clearing his throat.

Still smiling, she reached out and gave his left bicep a small squeeze. "Okay then, I'll call you when I know something."

It was a small gesture, and she wasn't exactly sure why she did it, but suddenly the energy in the room changed to something … electric.

Before she could pull away, he reached up and covered her hand on his arm. His heart pounding within his chest, he brushed his thumb over the soft skin of her fingers, amazed by the reaction such a simple touch was inciting within him. He raised his eyes to hers and watched in fascination as the bright smile on her face softened and a blush rose in her cheeks. He wondered if the touch of his skin was having the same effect on her.

Calleigh felt like everything around her went dark and all she could see was Horatio. Confused and yet completely entranced by the caress of his hand, she watched as the ocean blue hues of his eyes darkened like storm clouds. She was conscious that her breathing had become more rapid and shallow, but she didn't care. Warmth flooded up to her face and she tilted her head slightly to the side.

"_What is this?"_ she thought, amazed by the effect he was having on her.

Whatever it was, neither of them wanted it to end.

"Hey Cal, I'm ba …"

Calleigh practically jumped out of her skin as Ryan came walking unceremoniously through the door with his kit in hand. Both she and Horatio dropped their hands and stepped further away from each other. Remembering where they were and that there was a murder victim's body in the room, Horatio glanced over at Ryan, then back at Calleigh.

"Call me when you're finished here," he told Calleigh gruffly. On his way out the door, he nodded to Ryan. "Mr. Wolfe."

Calleigh watched Horatio's back as he walked further away toward Frank. When she heard Ryan snicker, she shook her head and glared at him.

"Something funny?" she asked him sourly.

Ryan merely smirked and put his hands up in surrender. "You are too good a shot lady," he retorted. "I'm not saying a word."

Her annoyance quickly turned into good-natured irritation and she smacked Ryan lightly on the arm. "Then I guess there is a first time for everything."

He laughed and set down his kit. Calleigh knew she needed to finish lifting the prints from the vanity, but her body was still humming. Determined to get herself under control and do her job effectively, she summoned up every ounce of internal strength she had and tamped down on the image of Horatio's eyes and the inner vibrations she was feeling.

Several minutes passed. She had just placed the adhesive side of her last lifter down on the table when her phone chirped. Sighing, she unclipped it from her belt and read the display: **HORATIO**.

Instantly, her body became warm again and she mentally shook herself for allowing her emotions to get the better of her so easily. Calleigh assumed in all likelihood, he was calling about the case. She looked through the door to see if he was still outside with Frank. When she didn't see him, she answered the phone before it rang again.

"Duquesne."

There was a slight pause on the other end before his deep, rich voice resonated through the earpiece.

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night."

She could tell by the tone of his voice that it wasn't a question, nor was it a command. Quickly turning her back to Ryan, she opened her mouth and then closed it again. The humming in her body demanded that she accept while the part that was still confused by the intensity of her feelings begged her to decline.

"Calleigh?" his voice sounded a bit more strained now, and she knew he was waiting for an answer. She closed her eyes to get a grip on herself. The first thing she saw in the dark, however, was his face.

Her eyes snapped back open.

"Yes."

She heard him exhale and smiled. Apparently, she wasn't the only one dealing with a case of nerves. It comforted her to know that in that aspect, they were on equal footing.

"Okay," he replied smoothly. "I'll pick you up at seven."

Looking down, she knew Ryan was probably eavesdropping. "Sounds good."

"Bye."

"Bye."

She turned to see Ryan concentrating on a piece of broken glass on the floor, so she clipped her phone back on her belt and went back to her lifter.

On the other end of the mall, Horatio smiled as he snapped his own phone shut and put it in the inner breast pocket of his coat. His body still radiating with warmth from their innocent encounter.

Boundaries or not, he was not willing to let these feelings go unexplored.

* * *

**And so _it_ begins ... and soon ends - at least for "Her Dark Life." But that doesn't mean I am finished with the dynamic duo and this storyline yet. I have come to the realization that this story is going to be a series - or at the very least a two-parter. So the next chapter will probably be the last for "Dark Life" before (as-of-yet-to-be-named) Round 2 begins.**

**I love my reviewers ... you are the best! Thank you for your kind words and for reading my work. I truly appreciate you.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Her Dark Life**

Author: NotasboredasIlook

Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.

Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.

Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)

Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.

My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.

Timeline: Refers to much of CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.

Status: Complete

**Chapter 10**

"_She tries to smile very graciously, when she wants to kill him."_ – Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"

The knock was so light, she almost didn't hear it.

Attaching her earring, Calleigh walked quickly to the door, knowing instinctively it was him. She could still feel the heat from the bare skin of his hand on hers. His touch, his presence, his _intensity_ from the day before had not left her mind. It haunted and seduced her at the same time, slowly consuming her mind and heart, drawing her into something that she could not pull away from.

She knew in her soul that she didn't want to.

In the beginning, her instincts always knew when he was near. A subtle alert would go up in her subconscious. No matter the situation or the location, that aural draw made something within her flutter. But they were different people then … or at least she was. And while she had flirted with idea of seeking out what – or more specifically who - she desired, she eventually realized what she felt was completely unrequited.

She thought that she had lost that awareness of him in the last few years as they drew away from each other. Lately, she had begun to wonder if that awareness was ever really gone, or just buried deep under the darkness of subliminal negativity.

Now, those feelings, those _desires_, had come roaring back into her psyche. She wasn't just aware of him … she was hyperaware, as if her very being had somehow become connected to his, seeking him out, _feeding _off of his energy.

It both terrified and excited her. Though their plans were for dinner, she felt anxious about the possibilities the night could hold. She was anxious for _him._

Starting to feel flush, she ran shaky hands over her skirt to smooth the soft material and then reached for the doorknob. The door seemed to swing open of its own volition, revealing him to her like the long-sought answer to a mystery.

Her eyes traveled over him, taking in his immaculate black suit and shirt, which only served to make his thick red hair look like blazing fire. Holding his sunglasses in his strong hands, Horatio tilted his head to the side and took her in wantonly with his eyes.

Overcome by the daring of his stare, she stepped back from the door and motioned for him to enter her home. She realized that he had been there the night he had brought her home from the bar, but she hadn't exactly been the most gracious hostess at the time. She was determined to make that up to him.

If only she could find her voice …

He sauntered past her, into her living room and turned as she closed the door.

"You look … amazing."

His sultry voice gave her pause, and she bit her lower lip before turning to face him. Though a light evening spring breeze was blowing through the living room windows, she felt incredibly warm. She smiled shyly, feeling a bit under the microscope of Horatio's scrutiny.

"Thank you," she said softly. "So do you. Won't you have a seat? I thought we might have a glass of wine before we leave?"

He shifted his stance slightly, putting his weight on his right foot. For a split second, she thought maybe he was going to approach, but instead he remained where he was, smiling at her predatorily.

"Wine sounds good," he murmured.

Starting to feel a bit overwhelmed, Calleigh nodded and went to her kitchen.

"_Oh my God, what is happening here?"_ her mind screamed as she twisted a corkscrew into the bottle of pinot noir. The way he was looking at her, the way he spoke, the way he smiled, the effect he was having on her … she had never felt so exposed before.

She felt like she was being _hunted_.

_"Calm down,"_ she told herself as she opened a cabinet door to retrieve wine glasses. _"This is Horatio. It's just some wine and dinner."_

Standing on tiptoe to reach a pair of wine glasses from the top shelf, Calleigh pushed herself closer to the counter to gain more leverage. Her fingertips had just grazed the smooth surface of one the glasses when she felt him enter the kitchen. She stopped, but before she could move, he was there, pinning her against the counter with his arms and body.

"It looks like you could use a hand," he growled low into her ear as he slowly slid his hand up over her bare arm, retrieving the glassware by their stems. The warmth of his breath against her neck made her tremble. She knew he felt her reaction to him.

The sensation of his touch and the heat from his body flooded Calleigh with a hunger that wouldn't be satiated by mere food. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as he set the wine glasses on the counter, his arm again brushing her skin before his hand came to rest on her hip.

They stood there, unmoving for what seemed like an eternity to her. Her heart was pounding an erotic rhythm and she found it harder and harder to resist moving in time with it.

That's when Horatio decided to take the lead. Leaning his forehead against the back of her head, he pressed his body further into hers, placing his other hand on her hip.

"Calleigh."

In her entire life, she never thought she would hear her name from his lips with such passion, such _need_. Everything in her was screaming for more: More of his touch, more of his heat, more of _him_.

Calleigh groaned as warm, soft lips found the back of her neck, and her head rolled to back and to the side, letting it rest on his shoulder as she allowed him better access to her neck, giving in, giving herself over to him. He took what she offered hungrily, running his mouth over the long, slender curve of her neck, he grazed her earlobe with his teeth while his hands massaged the flesh from her hips up her torso. Finding a barrier in the collar of her sleeveless shirt, he moved his hands to the hem of the offending article of clothing.

"This … is in the way," he growled again, and even as the thought to remove it registered through the haze of seduction Calleigh was trapped in, Horatio pulled her shirt up and over her head and arms. The unrestrained force he exhibited caused her to gasp and she opened her eyes.

Looking down, she saw the skilled, quick hands she had so long admired caressing the flesh of her flat stomach.

"Oh God," she exhaled as he traced the contours of her shoulder with his mouth and tongue, his kisses sparking bursts of electricity under her skin. He moaned appreciatively against her flesh and moved his hands up her stomach over her heaving, lace-covered breasts. With a primal grunt, he pushed his body against hers even further.

Calleigh gasped again as she felt his obvious arousal, the pace of his movements maddening to her. Groaning again, she pushed her backside against him, begging him to give her more.

"Jesus," he moaned breathlessly. Keeping her pinned against the counter, he reached down with both hands and yanked the material of her skirt up, scrunching it around her waist.

Biting her lip, she felt him caress the tingling flesh of her thighs. The heat from his groin emanating through the remaining barriers of clothing against her firm backside.

Letting her head fall back against his shoulder again, she panted as his hands grazed the front of her satin panties.

"Oh God, Horatio," she exhaled lustfully. "I need …"

Moving one hand up to her stomach, he anchored her against him as he slipped his other hand under the satin material covering her.

"I know what you need, Calleigh," he murmured. "I need it too."

Her eyes slammed shut and she jumped as his fingers found her. Still, he held her tightly against him as he examined her flesh with a mind-numbingly erotic precision, stroking between her slick and swollen folds.

Reaching up, she hooked one arm behind his head, entwining her fingers into his thick hair and arched into him.

"I never thought I would touch you like this Calleigh," he moaned hoarsely against the skin of her neck. "I never knew how much I _wanted_ you."

She gasped again as he dipped a finger slowly into her aching body. Biting hard on her lip, she melted more as he slipped a second finger inside of her and began alternating between hard thrusts and gentle strokes. Her mind spun. Her body hummed.

"Horatio," she moaned in needful desire. "I need it. I need _you._"

Even through the madness, she could feel him smile against the skin of her neck. He quickened the pace of his hand while he held her fiercely with the other. Her body tingled in anticipation, climbing the threshold of pleasure with every stroke and kiss. He was playing her body like a master musician played a piano, applying the right amount of pressure when he wanted her body to thrum loudly, and softening when he wanted her to come down more. To her, he was a skilled artist.

"Calleigh, I want you to come. Will you come for me?"

His words alone nearly sent her over the edge and she tightened the grip she had on his hair. Breathless and unable to speak, she nodded her head against his.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he whispered as he quickened the pace of his strokes. "Tell me you're going to come."

The sensation began building to an overpowering strength within her, and she opened her mouth in an effort to meet his demand. Her body however, was caught in the rising tidal wave of electricity flowing through her.

"Tell me, Calleigh. I want you to tell me."

Calleigh fought through the haze for the words and licked her lips. Her body was on the verge of release and was begging for it with an intensity she had never before experienced.

Just then, his thumb found THE spot: The tiny fold of flesh that sent her body skyrocketing.

She felt as though she was filled with lightning as her body tensed and went flying over the brink of extreme, insane pleasure. Her limbs felt like they were on fire and she saw bright fireworks behind her closed eyelids.

"I'm coming!" she screamed out. "Oh my God, I'm coming!"

He held her as she rode the wave. Her body shook with every ripple of her orgasm, each tremor awakening something new in her.

When the intensity finally began to subside, she wobbled slightly on shaky legs and exhaled. Using both hands to stabilize her, Horatio turned her body around and held her tightly against him.

She buried her head in his strong chest and rested her hands on his arms as she tried to catch her breath. The smell of his cologne and the rapid beating of his heart against her ear quickly re-ignited her passion.

Sensing the change, Horatio lifted her head to meet his gaze. Though Calleigh hadn't been able to see his face during their first intimate act, she saw a blazing, unquenched hunger in his deep blue depths.

Reaching up to caress his face, she stared with lust into his eyes.

"Kiss me, Horatio. Kiss me."

His mouth crushed hers like he was a man starving and she was his buffet. Taking her breath away, his tongue sought her mouth out and was immediately given entry, dueling with hers as his hands roamed all over her mostly nude body.

Hooking her hands around the lapels of his coat, Calleigh pushed and pulled as he shrugged, their mouths never breaking contact, until the garment lay in a heap on the floor. Desperate to the point of insanity to feel more of his skin, she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, until she finally gave up and ripped it open, exposing his broad, naked chest to her.

Unfazed by this offense against his wardrobe, Horatio cupped her rear with his hands, and bent at slightly at the knees. With one quick movement, he threw her up on her counter and positioned his body between her legs.

Grabbing his head and holding it fiercely to hers, she broke away from his mouth and traveled down his jaw and neck with her tongue, tasting his sweat and essence. He groaned loudly as his hands slid the straps of her bra off her shoulders.

Calleigh ran her hands down his body, through his chest hair, over the firm plains of his abdomen to his waist. Reaching for his belt, she felt him draw a sharp breath as he kissed her neck. Her nimble fingers working quickly, she undid the metal buckle and button of his pants.

He lifted his head from her shoulder and captured her mouth again with fervor. Pulling her to the edge of the counter, he pressed his body firmly against hers, the heat of their exposed skin creating a fine sheen of sweat on them both.

Finding her inner fires burning to near volcanic levels, Calleigh lowered the zipper of his pants and slid her palm inside the waistband of his boxers. He moaned huskily into her mouth as her hand found his hard, throbbing length. Her fingers wrapped around him, slowly stroking his soft, hot skin up and down.

Pulling his head back, he ground his jaw and clenched with closed eyes as Calleigh applied a tighter pressure to her ministrations, reveling in the feel of him, in how her touch was affecting him and in the knowledge that soon she would have all of him ... inside of her.

As she ran a single fingertip up his shaft, he pressed himself further against her hand and opened his eyes.

Staring into them, she watched as the blue hues again turned dark and stormy, as they had yesterday at the crime scene, revealing to her the want, lust and passion he was feeling.

All for her. And she was more than ready for him.

"Calleigh," he said as he reached up and cupped her face, drawing her to him for another kiss. "Calleigh …"

She smiled against his mouth. "Yes, Horatio?"

He kissed her softly again. "Spring training has begun for the Marlins.

Calleigh pulled back. "What?"

He leaned in for another kiss.

"A five-car pile up is causing a massive traffic jam on the causeway, motorists are advised to take an alternate route," he said as he dipped his head against her neck.

Her eyes flew open and she immediately sat up in bed. Taking stock of her surroundings, she quickly realized that despite the hot wetness she felt, she was alone.

It was just a dream.

"Fuck," she murmured, closing her eyes again, debating if she should try and get back to the illusion that was elusively slipping from her consciousness.

"It's a beautiful Saturday morning here in Miami," the all-too-chipper radio disc jockey reported. "No better way to start the day than with lots of sun and warm breezes."

Irritated, she slammed her hand down on her alarm clock, eliminating the unwelcoming sound that had broken her passionate slumber.

"Damn," she muttered breathlessly as she ran her hands over her face and tried to calm her pounding heart rate. No matter what she did, her body hummed, seemingly unwilling to let her forget her desires.

Throwing the covers back on her bed, she planted her feet on the floor and headed for her bathroom. She felt the great need for a very, very cold shower.

Shedding her pajamas, she reached into the shower and turned the faucet on. Droplets of ice-cold water on her heated skin shocked her system and caused goose bumps to travel up her arm. Jumping slightly, she took a deep breath and immersed herself fully under the showerhead, the unforgiving, cold stream flowing over her bare body, cooling her hot flesh and bringing her mind back to itself.

* * *

It had been a long 24 hours.

One dead Easter Bunny and no viable suspects later, Horatio finally decided to leave the lab.

After all, he had plans. Determined to leave work behind for a few hours and really explore these feelings that had been invoked by Calleigh, he went home, showered and dressed in a black suit and blue shirt. The memory of that fleeting, yet intense, moment the day before at the crime scene playing in his mind and senses over and over again.

He tried to reason and rationalize away what her touch had done to him, but it was to no avail. Something within him wouldn't let that happen. It was as if, for the first time, his mind and body had discovered something important - vital - and were bound and determined not to let it go.

Something … more like someone.

Exiting his home, he put his sunglasses on and headed toward the Hummer, a small smile tugging at the side of his mouth. He hadn't seen Calleigh all day. Technically, it had been her day off and Wolfe was processing the prints and trace collected at the mall murder scene. But he knew she had been at the lab at some point, briefly looking over Wolfe's shoulder, making sure all was as it was supposed to be.

Plus she had left him a note.

He had been out with Frank most of the day interviewing more mall employees. When he returned, he found the yellow post-it attached to his computer:

**Had to come in. Curiosity about the case got the better of me. **

**Saw you were out, didn't want to bother you by phone. See you tonight.**

**-Cal-**

Smiling, he climbed into his car. The Miami skyline was turning a vibrant palette of yellow, orange and purple as dusk began to settle over the city. There were a few clouds in the sky, but it still looked to be a beautiful night. Who knew what it held in store for them?

His cell phone chirped from inside his coat pocket. Wondering if Calleigh had indeed decided to "bother" him, he reached into the inner breast pocket of his coat and pulled out his phone, opening it without checking the display.

"Horatio."

However, it was not Calleigh's voice that greeted him.

"Mr. Caine, this is Dr. Ambrose at Glendale Springs. I'm sorry to call this late in the day, but we've had a situation here concerning Ms. Winston."

Horatio immediately stiffened at the mention of Kyle's mother. "What's happened?"

The doctor cleared his throat. "I'd rather not discuss it over the phone. I think it would be beneficial if you were to come up here. As soon as possible."

Knowing the severity of Julia's mental illness, Horatio prayed it wasn't the worst possible scenario. "Is she alive?"

"Yes," Dr. Ambrose replied. "I can explain in better detail once you are here."

Horatio nodded. "I'm on my way."

Sighing, he ended the call and started the car. Before he pulled away from his house, he opened his phone again, hoping Calleigh wouldn't ask too many questions. Julia's medical problems were a sore spot for both he and Kyle. No one accept Alexx knew she was in an institution. For now, no one else needed to know.

* * *

Calleigh tried to make herself busy that day. She went to the store. Stopped by the lab. Went for a jog. But no matter what she did, she could not escape the images from her dream.

Attaching her earring, she looked at the clock on the nightstand: **6:37 p.m.**

Blowing out a breath as she examined herself in the mirror for the 20th time, she wondered how she was going to get through the night in such close proximity to Horatio without embarrassing herself.

Or ripping his shirt off.

She straightened the black skirt and white cotton top she was wearing and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"_Ready as I'll ever be,"_ she thought to herself.

The trill of her phone broke her from her thoughts. She walked quickly into the living room and picked up the cellular from the coffee table.

The display read: **HORATIO**.

Flipping open the phone, warmth flooded her body and despite her nervousness, she smiled.

"Hey there," she said as lightly as she could. "You get my note?"

There was a pause on the other end and instinctively Calleigh knew something was wrong.

"Yes I did, thank you," Horatio said, attempting to mask obvious concern in his voice.

Her smile faltered. "What's going on?"

Again, there was a hesitation before he spoke: "I'm sorry to do this Calleigh, but something has come up. I need to take a raincheck on dinner."

Looking down, she was surprised at how much disappointment she felt at his cancellation of their plans. She exhaled as she cradled the phone against her face.

"Everything okay?"

She could tell by the ambient noise in the background that he was in the car. Clearly he was going _somewhere._

"I … um … can't really discuss it right now," he sounded distracted, but she believed there to be sincere regret in his voice. "I've been called to handle something. I'm still working the mall murder, so I shouldn't be away too long."

Calleigh sat down on her sofa and took her shoes off. She knew she had no right to feel neglected, but she couldn't help but be hurt by the fact that he was shutting her out again.

_"Apparently, some thing never change,"_ she thought sadly.

"Okay," she replied, trying to sound as upbeat as possible. "Do what you need to do. I'm in the lab tomorrow anyway so I can check on the status of the case."

"Thanks. I'll call you when I get back in town."

She laid her head on the back of the sofa. "No problem."

With those parting words, he hung up the phone. Closing her cell, Calleigh reached up and removed her earrings. Then, reaching over to the lamp on the side table, she flicked the switch.

She sat there for hours. Alone in the dark.

* * *

**Okay, first an apology that it took to so long to post this. I knew roughly how I wanted to end this. but I rewrote it like eight times (if you can believe it).**

**Second, a big thank you to all my reviewers. This was my first CSI: Miami fanfic, so I was kinda nervous. You guys are so awesome, reviews make my days so much better and they motivate me to write. Thank you for your kind words and for motivating me. **

**Third, as I said in Chapter 9, "Her Dark Life" is the first part of a continuing story. I have it mapped out and more or less started, I just need to take a small break to reenergize (and do laundry). The next part (which I haven't titled yet) should be up after Easter.**

**Finally, I give it up to the DuCaine faithful. Thank you for existing so I wouldn't be left alone in a world full of hiphuggers. :D**


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